A Sky Full of Thunder
by 8andahalfby11
Summary: Seven years after "A Sky Full of Fire" the integration of Earth technology and magic puts the Special Region on the verge of a new civil war. Meanwhile, a girl from across the sea goes on a quest to identify the new lights in the sky… and the people who put them there.
1. Prologue

_Previously…_

The most dangerous aspect of the words "right" and "wrong" is how easily people are willing to change adjust their definitions of these words to suit their needs.

First Example:

The end of the second decade in the 21st century was rattled by the sudden appearance of a Gate to another planet in downtown Tokyo. In doing so, it yielded the promise of new cultures, places, creatures, and that fascinating enigma called _magic_. It also threatened to upend a status-quo that had been in effect for nearly a century. In a fit of panic, the United States made a minor modification to _right_ and _wrong_ , and by the time that the sun came up over the Sankai Resort in Hakone, Japan found itself owning the most dangerous piece of Kompromat in human history.

Second Example:

In an expedition on the far side of the Gate, 1st Lt. Itami Yoji encountered a living God, one of twelve, which demonstrated unprecedented control over the nature and creatures of the Special Region. Fearing a long-term threat to Japanese interests, a slight change to _right_ and _wrong_ lead 1st Lt. Akira Yanagida to forge elements of Itami's report on the interaction, blaming a mysterious danger on both sides of the Gate on the Goddess Hardy.

Third Example:

Fearing for the fate of their country, and possibly the world, Japan decided to utilize the Kompromat from the Hakone Incident. In the ultimate readjustment of _right_ and _wrong_ , the only country in history to be target by a nuclear attack demanded that the United States provide a nuclear deterrent against Hardy. America agreed, and set into motion a plan to provide a single weapon, discretely, in exchange for access to magicians and other Special Region biologicals for future study.

The fourth and best example, however, was where the lines truly blurred, as the three previous cases required something _wrong_ becoming _right_. There was also one noteworthy incident where something _right_ became _wrong_.

The method that America chose to sneak a nuke into the Special Region was to disguise the launcher as part of a space program. To complete the charade, the Defense Department hired a NASA engineer, Carol Dawson, to teach the locals about the wonders of spaceflight. One such local, Greta La Sareteian, took a strong interest in the topic and became Carol's protégée, ultimately learning some aerospace engineering topics well enough to teach them to others.

One side effect was Carol's intervention during the ultimate nuclear crisis versus Hardy, where she and Itami uncovered Yanagida's deception and averted the destruction of Bellnahgo and its citizens. Instead, the weapon was deployed as a shock-and-awe prop. An invading force from the Kingdom of Carenth was ravaged, and the gods, traumatized by the radiation, conceded to the American threat, "If any god attempts to intervene in the affairs of humanity again, we will _**burn them out of the fucking heavens.**_ "

Another side effect of Carol's involvement was an academic debate before the Rondel Council, which not only reshaped the Special Region's view on Earth and Space sciences, it provided Falmart's academics with the mathematical know-how to proceed in many previously-inaccessible areas of engineering. With the war over and an increased prospect of trade with Japan, the Saderan Empire turned its attention towards industry and modernization. A key figure in this transformation was Greta herself, now one of two living Saderan astronauts, and the head of a push to develop magic-powered air travel.

As the American and Japanese governments watched the Special Region take flight, memories of their own histories pressed them to worry about Falmart discovering the military applications of aircraft. The belief that the Special Region should have free access to Earth science drifted from _right_ to _wrong_. In the space of a week, access to Earth libraries was revoked, communication with Earth universities was terminated, and Greta and her team of builders disappeared one night, never to be heard from again.

One minor adjustment, from _right_ to _wrong_.

This is the story of the fallout from that decision.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

In addition to the standard fare from the anime/Light Novels, this story introduces some small world elements from _GATE Season 2: Weigh Anchor_. Since information about some of these characters and cultures has been sparse, and only one volume of the story exists, I've had to make guesses based on existing artwork and plot/character summaries. As more details are released I will go back and update this story accordingly. If you're worried about being left behind, don't worry. All introductions of Season 2 material will be treated as if you've never heard of them before, and will be explained at length sufficient for their respective roles in the story.

If you're new, I highly advise going back and reading _A Sky Full of Fire._ If you're a returning reader, welcome back!


	2. Chapter 1: Flight Plan

**Chapter 1: Flight Plan**

"History teaches that wars begin when governments believe the price of aggression is cheap"

—Ronald Reagan

 **SEVEN YEARS AFTER** _ **"A SKY FULL OF FIRE"**_

 **Imperial Senate, Sadera, Falmart**

In her youth, Empress Pina Co Lada had often wondered what it would be like to sit in her father's chair at the Senate. It had seemed wonderfully grand and impressive, and far more showy than the official Throne in the palace. Here, there was an audience. Here, the true reins of power could be felt.

Now, however, the old straight-backed chair wore on her nerves almost as much as the dreary argument going on below, and she longed to be back in her chambers with a stack of imported manga.

"What Chairman Tiberius and the Rondel Council fail to understand is that while recovery will happen under any form of government, that recovery _can_ and _has_ happened faster when that government is centralized," Cicero La Moltose stated. Seven years later, the man was still attending Senate sessions wearing his Blue Origin-branded aviator jacket, as if his status as Falmart's single remaining astronaut gave him some kind of special wisdom.

"Nonsense," the Senator from Rondel spat. "Japan and America are not a single state, but their combined efforts were enough to beat Emperor Mort, Usurper Zorzal, _and_ the Goddess Hardy. With respect to the Empress, the people of Rondel have had enough of centralized powers in distant lands. We are not willing to wait another five years for Falmart to complete the transition to Parliamentary Democracy while our taxes and resources are reinvested into stronger infrastructure between Sadera and Italica."

"So is that what this is about?" Cicero said. "Your call for a Confederation has nothing to do with the needs of the continent, just the taxes of your highest earners—"

"As they should be! It is not Rondel's job to entertain the needs of a distant Capitol in ruins, and a trade city which, to this day, is more under Japan's influence than your own."

"How dare you!" a representative of House Formal cried. "Italica has always pledged itself to the Empire, and was the first to stand by Pina's side when Zorzal usurped the throne. Where was the Rondel Council? Hiding in their books! It wasn't loyalty that caused you to join Pina, it was payment in Earth technology!"

"It was nothing of the sort," the Rondel Senator argued. "We were concerned at the time that we were being forced to pick between a Usurper and a Japanese puppet. Perhaps part of that concern is still valid."

Shouts erupted in the Senate chamber, and Pina found herself instinctively reaching for her sword before she caught Sherry Tyueli watching her from the opposite end of the room. The young woman shook her head, and Pina let her hand return to her side. As always, Sherry was right; better to let the Senators squabble than cause an executive crisis.

"It is still valid!" the Senator from Rondel shouted above the din. "If this chamber truly believed in helping the entire continent to recover from the last war, then the taxes would be evenly distributed! A stronger transportation link between Italica and Sadera only serves to line Sadera's pockets, and lets them gain from Alnus the same way that Italica has!"

"Over one million people live in Sadera," Cicero argued. "One million people who have been directly affected by natural disasters and war. Recovery has not come easily!"

"Sadera's time is _over_. Our world looks to Japan now, as we mean to, _independently_ of the whims of this government. We only ask that you allow a peaceful transition to a Confederation, rather than place us in an uncomfortable position."

Cicero gave an exasperated cry, shouting, "WHY DON'T YOU GET IT!" I've been into Space, I've seen what we have here, and I assure you, it's far less than you think! These threats of fragmentation, of violence, over _what?_ We stand stronger when we stand united! Do you really think that the Carenth Kingdom or Zorzal will be the last threat we ever face? Do you really think that we can compete economically with Earth's most limited countries if we hoard our industries? Do you really think that _anyone_ on this planet wants more of the bloodshed of seven years ago!? I'm not demanding Rondel to bury its frustration; the Gods and all below know that Sadera has earned your ire! But I'm begging you, _please_ , do not give up on us so easily!"

Pina had heard speeches in this vein before, both from Cicero on a regular basis and from Greta, long, long ago. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but something about sending a man or woman into space seemed to imbue the astronaut with a sense of global unity, a belief in a world where everyone should stand united and march to the beat of collective progress, and that alone. It was a fairy tale, Sherry had pointed out, but a useful one; anything to help her government stay together until Sadera recovered was a benefit to her. Any new Parliament would have a Saderan/Italican majority, and the last thing she wanted was to hand over power on negative terms. Pina looked up to Sherry again, who nodded her permission to proceed.

She stood and walked to the stairs at the end of her platform, and a hush fell over the room. "Senators," she said, "In the past seven years, we have accomplished so much. We have rebuilt the land that was scoured in front of the JSDF, we have seen the benefits of new agricultural and medical practices in booming harvests and a growing population, and we have mended ties shattered by the arrogance of Zorzal El Caesar. With the help of Japan and America, we have established a good and fair plan to allow every man and woman in the Empire the representation they desire in their government. _We are so close_ , but if we do not hold our present course, we stand to lose much of what we fought to regain.

"As Empress I have the ability to offer my statement up as a command, but I would ask instead that the Senate instead apply the democratic process which in five years we all intend to swear by. I hereby request a motion to make secession from the Empire unlawful until the Parliamentary Constitution is passed."

Pina had gotten more comfortable with it over the years; the speech she had given was a variation on one she had given a few times before, and she had learned not to worry about the eventual vote. Even if some of the other principalities had mixed feelings about her, the representatives from Sadera and Italica were usually enough to push her request through with a simple majority.

Indeed, as she watched them take the vote, it looked like she was going to get more than a simple majority, and she watched the Rondel Senator's scowl deepen with every 'yea'. "The final tabulated vote," the Senate reporter stated, "Seventy-three percent in agreement, twenty-seven percent against. The motion is passed."

A satisfied murmur broke out amongst the Senators, but as she watched, the Rondel Senator, with gritted teeth reached inside his robes. _What will he do?_ She thought, _draw a knife on me? The guards would kill him before he made it up the stairs._

But what the man from Rondel drew was not a knife. Rather, it was a metal pipe with a wooden grip, which he pointed at her. _Odd,_ she thought, _that almost looks like_ —

Cicero La Moltose jumped in front of her.

 _BANG_

Senator Moltose, Pina's last remaining astronaut, lay dead on the floor.

For a moment, no one moved, waiting for the second shot which the campaign against the JSDF had taught them _must_ come, but as they watched the senator begin to scramble to reload, Pina realized, _it's a single-shot gun!_ Not waiting for her guards to respond, she drew her sword and rushed the traitor. The motions of the sword were familiar to her, etched into her soul through a decade of training with the Rose Order. With hardly a second thought, she flipped the sword around its handle and drove it, point first, into the Senator's chest. "Why?" she growled down at him.

His response? "Long live Rondel!" and one well-aimed spit that covered her cheek in coughed up blood.

* * *

 **A Coastal Town on the outskirts of the Seiraf Kingdom.**

Ellie Fe Agne had always been fond of stargazing. As a navigator-in-training, she had long ago memorized the names and positions of the stars and constellations, and often stayed up late in hopes of catching the rare shooting star. In the past year, however, she had become fascinated by the night sky for a whole new reason.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she made her way out onto the inn's third story balcony, where she leaned against the railing and looked north. The stars were just beginning to appear, but that was alright; what she was looking for was usually pretty bright.

There—leaping out of the horizon and climbing into the twilight sky was the Night Triangle. Three points of light, flying in perfect formation, which would nightly ascend from the north, pass in a sweeping arc across the sky, then descend to the exact south. Other times, they would run South to North, but always in the same perfect formation, appearing without fail once every ninety minutes. The first part of the triangle had supposedly appeared without explanation three years earlier, and her attention had first been called to it when the third and final point had been added a year ago.

Her question was the same as everyone else's: What were they, and who put them there?

To her teacher, Amita Ze Andromache, they were just another navigational aid. "The point of the triangle is always either North or South, and the base helps point West and East. As for why it's there? That's for the gods to decide, and the mages and natural philosophers to decipher."

For Ellie that wasn't enough. She wanted to see one up close, to go see what the world was like from up there.

As she did each evening, Ellie climbed up onto the rail, took a deep breath, and leapt off the balcony.

Granted, the Special Region contained a number of creatures and races who could easily walk away from a three-story drop but, as it happened, Ellie didn't need to. Instead, she swept open a pair of swan-white wings, and flew.

Of the many races in the Special Region, the Monarchs were one of the most splendid and the most envied. Members of this particular race of demihumans were mostly human, save for a few key differences. In addition to the wings, Monarchs could breathe at higher altitudes, were more sensitive to changes in temperature and pressure, and had an impeccable sense of direction. Unlike similar demihumans, like Sirens, their wings were not for show, and could be used to fly at altitudes of over 21,000 feet (about 6,400 meters). Together, this made Monarchs highly prized as navigators for seafaring ships, and weather scouts for coastal towns and cities.

At sixteen, Ellie was still too inexperienced to be a freelance navigator, and Andromache was constantly on her case about memorizing solar tables and mastering daylight navigation. This frustrated her to no end… she _knew_ that other Monarchs were acting as navigators at her age, and she had grown tired of this dreary town in the middle of nowhere. She wanted to travel, fly to interesting places, do interesting things, and meet with new people.

The Night Triangle was, in a way, the culmination of those feelings. By this point, the formation was almost directly overhead. Ellie knew that it was impossible to reach—she'd tried—and considering as they never seemed to get any closer, she estimated that they had to be at least triple her highest altitude...probably further. She brushed an errant lock of her short hair out of her face, then reached an almost imploring hand up at the Triangle, as if it might notice her and divulge some secret.

It did nothing of the sort. Instead, as if the universe was annoyed at her for trying, a gust of wind hit her off-center and knocked her into a left-handed spin. For a moment she was gripped by panic as she twirled over and started to drop, but one of her instructor's mantras popped into her head.

"Fly first, panic later."

She took a deep breath and, recalling her training, she started a spin-recovery maneuver. Ellie slowed the beat of her wings, bent her legs away from the spin, and allowed herself to enter back into a stable dive before leveling off again. By the time she finished, the change in pressure caused her to estimate a drop of at least five hundred feet. She sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Gods that the spin hadn't occurred at a lower altitude and turned South, hoping to catch the Night Triangle on its descent.

Instead, she nearly collided with her instructor. In the dim light, Ellie could see the cold frown on Andromache's face, and the motion of her hands as she made the signs for _Land_ , followed by _Point of Origin._

Knowing that she was in for a scolding, Ellie wheeled back in the direction of her little coastal town and the inn on the coast. She made one modification, however, and landed on the roof of the building instead of the balcony. It was still reasonably public, but it reduced the chances of someone else walking in on them.

"How many times have I told you?" Andromache said. "If you plan to go flying on your own at night, you _must_ tell someone, and you _must_ give them your travel time and heading."

Ellie had nothing that she wanted to say. She was so used to having her excuses get shot down that it wasn't worth voicing any of them. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Do you understand why I'm upset?"

 _Oh no,_ Ellie thought, _please, no, not this again…_

"I had a student just like you once!"

 _Was she young and impatient?_

"She was just a year or two younger than you, and just as impatient. But she was bright too, she might have had a marvelous career ahead of her!"

 _However…_

"However, she acted on her own, without listening to the advice or consultation of others."

 _Tell me a fairy tale, Grandma Andromache…_

"One day, she decided to go out on her own, just like you, and go skimming around the surface of the ocean at night, _despite_ what I told her, and _despite_ what she knew was right. Do you know what happened?"

 _Did she get attacked by an Armored Whale?_

"She was attacked by an Armored Whale! It tore her left wing clean off, and if I hadn't been very lucky while searching for her, she would have bled to death! As it was, she was never able to fly again!"

Ellie had heard the same story dozens of times, to the point that she had memorized every line and every turn of her instructor's stern intonation. The mystery girl must've been a true idiot—surface-skimming was a bad idea regardless of the time of day, or whether or not anyone was told. All that remained, fortunately, was the last line, which would be, _And that is why, dear Ellie, we cannot shirk our duty to each other, and you MUST tell me before running off like that!_

So, like a trained parrot, Andromache finished, "And that is why, dear Ellie, we cannot shirk our duty to each other, and you MUST—"

She was cut off as a large shadow passed by overhead, and both of them looked up to see a large flying object miss them by just under twenty feet, and the two instinctively ducked. Looking up at it though, Ellie failed to see the regular flapping motions of a dragon or wyvern, but instead flat panels of wood that made a hissing noise as they passed, like steam escaping a boiling pot.

Once it had passed over, Ellie rushed to the other side of the roof and watched the flying contraption descend beyond the town walls and into a field beyond. Looking back to her instructor she asked, "What was that?"

"I—I don't know."

"We should go for a closer look!"

"Ellie!"

But Ellie wasn't listening. She jumped over the edge and glided down to the streets below, joining the gathering throng that surged out of the city to meet the strange visitor.

* * *

By the time that Ellie arrived at the site of the landed craft, the town militia was already there in force, and she had to push and shove her way through the spectators so that she could get a closer look. As she did, she heard the people around her muttering. "Air sailors! Air sailors from another land!"

Indeed, once Ellie could finally see what was going on, she could see that the craft had disgorged a crew of three. Their leader, a man in stylized red and silvery armor, was talking to the mayor of the town, who appeared calm and relatively apologetic. This was a good sign—Ellie had watched the town guard engage in combat with pirates before, and though Andromache had trained her in basic self-defense, the sight of all that blood had sickened her.

"...trade and normalizing relations, you say," the mayor said. "I would've expected a ship, and I would've thought that you would go to our capitol to speak directly with our leaders."

"That's the general plan," the captain of the flying ship said. The man had a slight accent, and Ellie found herself wondering how far these men had traveled. "Thing is, just like sea ships, we need to make landfall every so often so my crew has time to rest. Our maps of this region are limited in detail, and we missed our planned stopping point. We've been flying East all day, and are simply looking for a place to eat and sleep. We'll be on our way tomorrow morning."

The mayor sighed and said, "As long as your coins are based in gold and silver, you will have no problem here. I hope that our leadership looks fortunately on the offer of… where did you say you were from?"

"The Saderan Empire of Falmart, on behalf of Empress Pina Co Lada."

"Indeed. I shall post guards around your sky-ship, and welcome you to our humble town."

Ceremony over, the crowd began to disperse, but Ellie remained, closely following behind one of the guards so she could get closer to the aircraft.

"What a mess," one of the passengers, a woman in robes, was saying. "I'll never understand it; we've gotten lost _twice_ now, even with the new maps."

"It's not ocean sailing," the Captain argued. "We've only been doing it for a few years, not hundreds. I hear that the Imperial Aviation Group is planning to affix a compass in the next model."

"That's no excuse," the woman argued. "The Men in Green manage it just fine in their planes—"

"If you can convince the Men in Green to let me trade in my MagThree for one of their Eff-toos, I would gladly—"

"Ah, excuse me!" Ellie said, first waving to get their attention, then shrinking away from the startled town guards.

"This area is off-limits," the nearest guard declared. "Go back to the town."

"But—"

"It's okay," the Captain stated, approaching to meet her. The man looked her up and down, taking in her figure and her wings, and Ellie suddenly found herself feeling extremely self-conscious. Had this man never seen a Monarch before?

"There's always one of you folks," the Captain said. "At every town, city, and port, and the question is always the same. 'What's that, and how does it fly?' Right?"

Ellie nodded.

"That," he continued, pointing at his ship, "Is called an airplane. It uses magic to pass wind over the wings, which produces both thrust and lift. I am the pilot, which means that I control which way the airplane points. Leeta and Cato in the back are the flight engineers, which means that they supply the magic."

"And we've been supplying magic all day long," Cato groaned. "How about you supply us with some coin so I can supply myself with a bed?"

The Captain stifled a yawn of his own and said, "Yeah,that sounds good to me too. Let's go."

Before they could leave, Ellie jumped in front of them and said, "Wait! One more question! Does anyone in your land know who set the Night Triangle into the sky?"

"The what _?_ "

"The Night Triangle! Three stars that fly North to South some days, and South to North on others."

The crew of the airplane exchanged looks, before the woman, Leeta, replied, "The—what was the word...saddle-lights? If you mean the moving stars, the men in Tan did that."

"Saddle-lights, is that what they're called?" Ellie asked, but the others were ignoring her.

"Are you sure that it wasn't the Men in Green?" Cato argued.

"You might be right," Leeta said. "The rockets were definitely made by the Men in Green, but mark my words, the fake stars were made by the Men in Tan."

"Tan? Green? Who are they?" Ellie asked, "What's a 'rocket'?"

"That's enough questions," the Captain said, brushing her off. "Good night, miss."

Ellie watched them go, folded her arms, and ruffled her wings with an annoyed huff. _That's enough_. How could it ever be enough? Somewhere was a land with two powerful forces that built airplanes and could place fake stars in the sky, and the crew from Falmart treated these things like a matter of course!

As she examined the airplane, she gradually became aware of a certain subtlety… an underlying elegance to the design. The gentle curves and tapering points of the wing surfaces reminded her of the shape of her own wings, and the hinged surfaces suggested the same level of control that she found with her hands and legs during flight. This might make sense if the creator had studied Monarchs for decades and asked them extensive questions… but the Captain seemed like he'd never seen a Monarch before in his life. Someone had _thought_ of this machine, and whoever they were, they almost surely either knew the Men in Green and Tan, or they were one themselves.

"Ellie!"

 _And there's that voice again…_

Andromache grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her away. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, she shouted, "Didn't you hear a single word I said?"

" _But they know about the Night Triangle!_ "

"That's no excuse!" the older Monarch took a deep breath, recomposed herself, and said, "Since your senses seem to have taken flight, I'll just have to ground the rest of you. There will be no flying tomorrow, and you will spend the day memorizing sun tables."

Ellie felt like she was going to burst. _Whoever made this machine was connected to the Night Triangle somehow. They would have the answers to everything. Why can't she see it?_

By midnight, she had made her decision. She grabbed a satchel, filled it with her money, some food, and some other supplies. Just before dawn, she dressed, crept up to the third-story balcony, and leaped off the railing. This time, she did not plan to return.


	3. Chapter 2: Taxiing

**Chapter 2: Taxiing**

 **Rondel, Northern Falmart**

When America and Japan jointly announced an end to science and technology sharing with the Special Region, the reason they had given was "long-term military-strategic dangers, arising through misuse as weapons technology." Despite this, the ban had two noteworthy exceptions:

First, the World Health Organization was permitted to continue operating in Falmart's major cities for the sake of educating the locals on basic sanitation, first aid, and disease prevention. This occurred only after extensive arguing within the United Nations (and two "strongly worded" letters of condemnation) and an agreement allowing Japan to quarantine returning doctors...in the interest of making sure that "no unintended creatures were brought back through the Gate."

Second, Astronomy Sciences was allowed to continue. The argument for why? "You cannot weaponize star charts!"

The man who had made that argument, Professor Hitoshi Shirai sighed, leaned away from his computer screen, and looked up to the giant scientific instrument on his left.

The 24" Modified Dall-Kirkham telescope had cost JAXA seven million Yen out of the box, and another three hundred million to transport it all the way to Rondel and install it. In comparison, the price of local labor to build the new brick and wood observatory, about two million yen, was a joke.

That said, the telescope had been worth every Yen that NAOJ had thrown at it. Data collected from observations had discovered three dozen nebulae, five hundred exoplanet candidates, two black hole-binary candidates, and an additional two planets within the Special Region's own solar system. This, of course, translated to a tremendous stream of academic papers and publications, all with Shriai's name on it. One particular paper, "Evolution of the Orion Arm of the Milky Way based on Extragalactic Observations," had supposedly caught the attention of a very important panel at the Royal Academy in Stockholm.

His assistant, Flat El Coda, noticed his change in posture and asked, "Is something the matter, Professor?"

"Ah, just this damned computer screen," Shirai said. "They're a pain on old eyes like mine."

"I hear that the Alchemy Academy has been working on an Elixir to reduce eye strain," Flat said. "Ever since they heard that such a thing doesn't exist on Earth, they've been pouring over mountains of old text in search of a manufacturable solution."

Shirai snorted. In the past seven years, every student, scientist, and magician in Falmart had been scrambling to find new niches in Earth markets. One of the earliest, Tiberias El Delsus, had been offered a six billion Yen contract when his family tea recipe "for treating headaches and congestion" also happened to be surprisingly effective at curing Melanoma. Now the man was the Chairman of the Rondel Council. "I'd prefer to take the proven treatment and go for a walk," Shirai said. "Care to—"

Before he could finish, the door to the observatory burst open and Arpeggio El Lalena charged through, clearly nervous and excited. "Flat!" She declared, rushing over to him, "Have you heard—"

Flat rushed to her side and Shirai turned to watch. Of all his projects, this was probably the one that he was the most proud of. When Flat had first taken him to Rondel six years earlier, Shirai had been excited to meet his apprentice's closest female friend and colleague. Instead, he'd been horrified to witness the pair's confused relationship caught in a seemly endless orbit of evasions, passive-aggression, and proto-romantic tension. Deciding to add a little delta-V to the equation, Shirai had carefully given his own encouragement to Flat ("You shall grow a spine and ask her out _weekly_ , or I will bar you from using the 24" scope") but had required some help with Arpeggio ("Itami, you're an otaku, would you remind everyone again what happens to a _tsundere_ that doesn't drop the act before she turns twenty-five?"). Eventually the two relented, married, and Alfie was presently a few weeks from expecting her first child.

"Alfie," Flat cautioned, "You shouldn't be running like that, it's bad for—"

But Arpeggio didn't seem to care. "News from Sadera! The Senator from Rondel tried to assassinate the Empress!"

Flat and Shirai exchanged a confused glance before Flat said, "Pina's father was nearly assassinated by Zorzal. Surely she would be more careful—"

"And they say that the assassin had a gun!"

 _That_ shook Shirai to the core. After seven years of exposure to Japanese and American assault rifles, most of his Earth colleagues knew that it was only a matter of time before someone in Falmart began producing their own firearms. Yet, he hadn't expected them to come so _soon_. "A gun, you say?"

"The Council has called an emergency meeting, and Director Tarinium stopped by the library on the way there. He told me to tell you to go and watch, since this could affect all of us!"

Flat gave a helpless look to the Professor, who shrugged and said, "You two get a head start. I'll shut everything down here and join you later."

After the couple had gone, he turned back to his computer and typed out a quick email:

 _To: sugawarak_

Subj: Gun Assassin?!

 _Hearing report of firearm assassination attempt against Empress. Why am I just now hearing about this? Is there a need to evacuate? Please advise._

 _Shirai Hitoshi_

 _Hakase,_ _NAOJ_

He hit the send button and then placed the computer into standby mode. The message would remain there until the American satellite constellation passed above the horizon, usually once every hour or so. At that point, the email would get transferred to a message buffer on one of the orbiting machines, then beamed back down to the receiving dish at the Jade Palace in Sadera some time after that. According to the Americans, this was one of a handful of features on the three-satellite cluster, but it was the one that he used the most often.

Since there was no hope of an immediate response, he decided to power down the telescope, lock up the observatory, and follow Flat and Arpeggio back into the city.

In the seven years since the end of the war, Rondel had experienced booming expansion in all sectors as its citizens rushed to either mimic Earth technology with the resources at hand, or monetize on discoveries unique to Falmart's fauna, flora, and geology. The city had nearly doubled in size, the New City a tableau of parallel roads and avenues standing in defiance of the chaotic mess of Rondel's older streets. The once open and sparkling Row Stream was now clogged with water wheels for everything from mills to printing presses, and was tinged with sewage in places as the city struggled under the strain of nearly a quarter-million new citizens. In the distance, Shirai could see the looming smokestacks where aspiring mechanical engineers were supposedly struggling to build Falmart's first working steam engines.

It was frustrating, in its own way. If Shirai looked closely enough, he could still make out the white marble architecture and deep-hued spires of the old city, but the level of industrialization was so much and so fast that the city had started to remind him more of the outskirts of Beijing than some fantasy academic paradise. He shook his head as he passed a work crew taking down a detailed statue of Goddess La, likely for the sake of expanding a building or some other hectic construction project.

"Ah, Dr. Shirai!" a voice shouted in English.

Shirai knew the voice very well, and, deciding that he wasn't in the mood that morning, ignored it and pressed on, only to be interrupted as the speaker rushed before him and addressed him with polite enthusiasm, "I take it you heard the news too? Going to the City Hall?"

Shirai said nothing in return, his eyes fixed on the seal of the United Nations on the man's vest, along with the large block words WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION before traveling up to the man's face.

"What?" The man said, grinning.

"Dr. Nguyen, if you've heard the same news that I heard, you would be less excited."

Doctor Thi Van Nguyen gave him a confused look. "But Professor Shirai," he said. "Surely this is history in motion. The people of Rondel seem excited, shouldn't we be as well?"

"I see nothing positive to be drawn from attempted murder," Shirai said.

"Attempted?" His eyes widened. "Oh, so you didn't hear, then! The Empress was not hit, but that astronaut fellow—what was his name?"

Shirai stopped trying to push past and said, "Cicero? Cicero La Moltose is dead?"

"That's what it sounds like, yes. Apparently, he jumped in front of Pina just as the gun went off, and..."

Shirai brought a hand to his mouth and looked away, blocking out the rest of Nguyen's rant. He had been at Alnus with Flat and watched the Saderan Senator deliver his speech before and after flying on the New Shephard rocket with Greta and Kamkikoda. The flight had added a layer of compassion atop his initial gruffness, and though Cicero continued to press for more technology from Japan, he was ultimately a kind person whose decisions were driven by the well-being of his constituents, not personal gain.

"You knew him?"

The astronomer sighed and let his hand fall. "Somewhat," he said. "Let's go, we're already running late."

As they progressed deeper into the city, the changes became more and more apparent. Where once Rondel had been a place of books, it now seemed to be a place of manufacturing, with carts coming and going from every building, hauling both the expected raw materials like wood, stone, and metal, and unexpected regional materials like plants and, more recently, crystals. As much as he didn't wish to, he said, "May I ask a question, Dr. Nguyen?"

"Of course!"

"Have any of your patients mentioned the crystals? There seem to be a large demand for them."

"You mean Focus Crystals?" the doctor's face grew into an even bigger smile. "Indeed! They are a magic stabilizers. They are designed to help even novice magicians with channeling magic without getting exhausted. Since magic is the next cheapest available mechanical energy available to these people after water and air power, there's been an increased demand for mages and their skills. Those magic-driven airplanes, for example, must have one on board if they hope to fly for longer than a few minutes."

"Ah."

"From the sound of it, they do not occur naturally, but they take natural crystals and attune them with magic. They seem to be using them everywhere now, and the demand for them in other cities is high enough that they're being mass-produced here. If you ask me, it's wonderful because it gives Rondel the kind of manufacturing options that allow even peasants with no education whatsoever to come to Rondel and make a living. It wouldn't surprise me if the city passes Sadera in the next decade or two!"

"I see."

"And what's more, they have all these fancy gimmicks...for instance, having two crystals within line of sight of each other boosts their capacity even further. Think of it like the missing jet engine for their planes; instead of three engines, you have three mages with Focus Crystals and get thrice the thrust! Many of my patients or their employers are using one in some way, and have been using them since before I came here, I gather."

By this point, they were approaching the City Hall, its red spires and white turrets surprisingly untouched by new construction. To Shirai's relief, Nguyen had the self-control to shut up once they passed the threshold.

Shirai didn't bear any ill will toward Dr. Nguyen himself. The man had only been rotated into the Special Region four months earlier, but since then the man had proven to be a self-obsessed motormouth. For an astronomer like Shirai, who enjoyed peace and quiet, the presence of the Vietnamese doctor was often grating on his nerves.

Key members of the Rondel Council were already present and discussing matters as Shirai and Nguyen took seats in one of the crowded balconies overlooking the chamber. "...because this whole thing is ridiculous!" Alron El Tarinium, the Astronomy director the Rondel Council was stating. "While the frustration about Saderan tax choices is reasonable, the decision to attack the Empress was not, and does not represent the feelings of this assembly. We _must_ reply to the Senate and declare that the Senator acted unilaterally, and had been paid off by an extremist faction."

But instead of the cheers that Shirai had been hoping to hear, there was only muttering. "What of it?" the Director of Alchemy retorted. "Imperial Sovereignty has been a joke since the JSDF appeared on our world. I have read their Parliamentary Constitution end to end, and if we were to accept it, we would enjoy the same _treatment_ that the Saderans and Italicans currently grace us with. This council has done fine for centuries, not just because it's a representative system, but because it is representative by sector, _not_ by population."

Applause this time, and calls of "here, here!" Shirai looked to the front of the room, where Council Chairman Tiberias waited, hands folded on the table, for the Directors before him to make their statements. Despite this, Shirai swore that he could see the barest hint of a grin developing in the side of the man's mouth.

"But _murder?_ Tarinium asked. "And of one of Falmart's best, no less—"

"He was a Saderan!"

More shouts. This time, Chairman Tiberias stood and said, "Gentlemen and Ladies of the Council, we must grant that our august Director of Astronomy is correct in moral terms. Our senator's actions were unexpected, and the death of Senator Cicero is regrettable. That said, the motion made by Pina Co Lada that directly preceded the attempt stands as a direct challenge to our city's self-determination. Why should two faraway cities decide our fate, even as our population stands in opposition? Therefore, while I back the idea of sending a written apology, I ask that this council also replies with a strongly worded rejection of the Secession Motion, with a threat to follow through if the option is not left open to us. Would all in favor raise a hand?"

As Shirai watched, most of the Councilmen raised a hand. Of the initial exceptions, about half folded to the pressuring stares of their peers and joined the majority.

"It is settled then," Tiberias said. "Empress Pina did not deem us worthy of Airplane Mail, so we shall reply with a Wyvern in kind… though, for her, I'm half-inclined to send our message along on a pack-horse!"

This brought about some laughter, but in the stands, Shirai stood and made his way towards the exit. As he did, all he could think was, _Sugawara had better see that damn e-mail!_

* * *

 **Far East Imperial Colonies, Falmart**

Ellie knew that the trip was going to be physically demanding. After all, she didn't know how far to the West Falmart was supposed to be, just that it was somewhere beyond the Avion sea, and at least more than one day of constant flight, provided that the crew of the airplane had flown all day as they'd claimed. By late that afternoon, her wing joints ached from hours of gliding, and her other limbs had built up a soreness from the hundreds of minor orientation adjustments.

Therefore, it was with tears in her eyes when she finally descended towards a small port, flying a banner with the same colors that had been painted on the airplane. _I made it!_ Was all she could think. _I made it, thank heavens, I made it!_

The local inn wasn't hard to find, and after careful examination the innkeeper agreed to accept her money for room and board. Next, not wanting to waste her precious supplies, she made her way to a local eatery and put in an order for something simple. As she waited, she looked around at the other patrons. Their clothes were different from those she was used to seeing in the East; lots of robes and tunics. Surprisingly, what she did _not_ see was any more strange contraptions like the airplane. _Have I come to the right place?_ She wondered.

She had her answer minutes later, when she overheard one of the sailors say, "...but of course, the Men in Green don't sell these anymore. This one has lasted me for seven years though. I'd never part with it!"

Ellie looked over to see that the sailor was holding something that looked like a tube with a large reflecting mirror on the end. Scooching closer, she got the man's attention and asked him what it was. "This?" The sailor said. "It's a no-fire torch. Watch!"

The man flicked a switch on the side of the device, and pure bright white light appeared from the mirrored side. Ellie had never seen anything like it before; light from fire and lamps usually had an orangey tint, but this was like someone had broken off a piece of the sun and hidden it in the tube. "And when I say no-fire, I mean no-fire! Its brightness is steady, it makes no heat so it can't set things on fire by accident, and it works even if it gets wet!"

"Where does the light come from?" Ellie asked.

"Somewhere inside," the sailor said with a shrug. "Sometimes it goes dim and I need to turn this crank over here for a little while, but then it starts up again, no problem! If only the Men in Green would tell us how to make these, fires on ships would be a thing of the past!"

"If the Men in Green were willing, I'm sure many things would be a thing of the past," another sailor pointed out. "But they're not, and so we must endure Braccius showing off this toy to every woman or child that passes by."

"You know the Men in Green?" Ellie asked. "What are they like?"

Braccius thought about it for a moment. "Short."

"They're dwarves?"

"What? No. Usually just an inch or two—wait, what am I saying? You're a Monarch, aren't you? Surely you've heard about Odette Ze Negula and the _Kitsashi_?"

Ellie struggled to remember anyone by that name, and came up empty. "Is the Kitsashi the Green Men's ship?"

The other sailor shook his head. "The _Kitsashi_ is as much a ship as Braccius' torch is a flint and steel. They say that it uses no sails, can cross the ocean without wind, and can do it on the sea...or beneath it!"

"I heard that the ship has no wheelhouse, and the Helmsman guides the boat by sound alone."

"You know who would know? Hector. Is he here? Hector!"

Ellie looked around for the man they were calling to, and her eyes were drawn to a man wrapped in a dark, hooded robe, bent low over a cup of tea.

"Hector!" Braccius called. "You're the one obsessed with the Men in Green and Tan, is what they say about the _Kitsashi_ true?"

The man, Hector, straightened, and said, "With the men in Green? Usually. Tan? Always."

"So the _Kitsashi_ really—"

"Slaughtered an Armored Whale?" He held up one hand, in a fist and opened it suddenly, and Ellie gasped. The hand was horribly mangled, seared as if it had been forced against a burning skillet. "Two shots," he said. "Two tremendous explosions, and the beast was blown to smithereens."

After Andromache's repeating stories about the Monarch that lost her wing to an Armored Whale, Ellie was shocked. _No one_ had ever defeated an Armored Whale, and the Men in Green and their vessel had destroyed one in two shots? "So they are warriors too?" she asked.

"The most dangerous warriors of all," Braccius said. "I have a cousin in Italica… he spoke of steel dragons and iron elephants and sticks that spit fire and death...but that was long ago, during the war, before the Men in Tan and…"

The older sailor looked around, as if suddenly afraid to be overheard and whispered, "the _Godwrecker._ "

The other sailors looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, and Ellie could feel a cold prickliness on her skin. These sailors had been talking with such enthusiasm, but on reaching the Men in Tan, it was as if some invisible line had been crossed, as if the conversation itself was now treading on forbidden ground. Glancing over her shoulder, Ellie noticed that she had unconsciously unfurled her wings slightly and had shaped them, shieldlke, behind her shoulders. "What—"

"It was seven years ago," one of the sailors said. "Don't you remember, girl, the screaming of the priests?"

Ellie would have only been nine years old at the time, but she could vaguely recall one day in particular, all the adults looked terrified, all glancing up at the sky, as if the heavens themselves were about to fall and smash the world below. She vaguely recalled asking her mother if they should pray to the Gods to help with whatever was wrong, and was met with a sickening silence. She had mostly forgotten the incident, but the comment brought some of the memories back.

Surprisingly, it was Hector who spoke. "You can tell her," he said, approaching the table. "You can tell her that the Gods have no power anymore."

By now, Ellie had noticed that no one in the room was speaking. All eyes were on Hector. In the shadow beneath his hood, Ellie could see a faint, grim scowl. "I know," he said. "I was there. I saw it when it happened."

He removed his hood, and Ellie backpedaled in fear. Like his hands, the man's face was horribly burnt, so much so that the skin of the right side of his face seemed to have melted and pulled down the side of his eye and mouth into a perpetual grimace. "I used to lead a team of mages beneath King Selecus of Carenth," he said. "We were marching West, towards Falmart, egged on through a challenge by Zorzal the Usurper. We had a massive army and fleet at our behest, and were sure… we were so _sure_ that no man, Green, Tan, whatever could hope to drive us back.

"But then… the Men in Tan used the Godwrecker. In an instant, the fleet was pulverized, thousands of men were boiled to death or sliced to ribbons by splinters the size of steak knives. It was… like they had set the sky itself on fire. Everything, _everything_ burned. The tents, the men, the Gods themselves. Some nights, when I close my eyes, I can still see some of my men, their own skin running down their hands like candlewax, mouths wide in a scream that I could not hear.

"Those of us that remained… that did not die in the night or on the voyage home, were around to witness Selecus write his capitulation to Empress Pina Co Lada, begging to know what we had done to deserve such a fate. But she couldn't even bother to reply. Instead, we received a letter penned by her aide, Sherry Tyueli, which told us of the Men in Tan and the Godwrecker that had been fired… both at us and at the Gods. The terms for peace were simple: never approach Falmart again.

"But that wasn't enough for me. It will never be enough until I meet the Man in Tan responsible for such a weapon and show him my face. I owe my men that."

Ellie didn't know what to say. How could a group that built something as wonderful as the Night Triangle build something so awful? "I'm sorry," she said. "Have you had a chance to see the Men in Tan yet?"

Hector suddenly looked uncomfortable. "No."

"Why not?"

"No one knows where to find them. They say that a few are living at the Jade Palace in Sadera, but requesting an audience is impossible."

"That's… not entirely true," Braccius argued.

The others turned to the table to look at him. "The last time I was in Italica, my cousin said that he had been given a pass to visit New Alnus. He said that the Men in Tan fly airships out of the Men in Green's fortress. If you want to find the Men in Tan, you must first speak to the Men in Green."

"Then that's what I'll do!" Ellife said. "Thank you, you have all been very—"

"Stop," Hector said, holding out a mottled hand. "After all that I said, you want to find these people anyway? Are you insane?"

"It must be only their warriors that are dangerous," Ellie insisted. "And even their warriors must have great restraint. If they can summon a Godwrecker, why only do it once? Why even leave Falmart standing? If the pirates where I come from had more than one, then surely they would be using them all the time to scare people."

"What's to say that they need a Godwrecker to cause destruction? They might have other weapons even more dangerous! How do you know that the Night Triangle isn't a weapon too?"

She hadn't considered that, but, at the moment, she wasn't willing to believe it. "I'd rather ask them myself."

"Listen, girl—"

"Ellie."

"Whatever. I've seen thousands of men blindly march to their deaths before an enemy that they didn't understand. What you're doing is wrong."

Ellie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Didn't you say a moment ago that you owed it to your men to find the Men in Tan who used the Godwrecker? It's been seven years, and you still haven't made up your mind to go? Are you that afr—"

Hector slammed a hand down on the table, "YOU WEREN'T THERE!"

The sailors at the table shrank away from the enraged man. Ellie did too, but almost as a trained reaction, she could hear Andromache in her head. _Fly first, worry later._ Burying her moment of panic, she looked Hector dead in the eyes and said, "I'm going."

Not waiting for an answer, she scooped up the remains of her meal and left. _Never again,_ she thought, _no one else is going to shove their fears down my throat. Not Hector, not Andromache, no one._


	4. Chapter 3: Control Surfaces Checkout

**Chapter 3: Control Surfaces Checkout**

 _Author's Note_

While reading the reviews I noticed a comment believing that the _Kitsashi_ was a nuclear submarine. Since it is Yannai's invention and not mine, I wanted to take time to clear up what the _Kitsashi_ is, and what it can and can't do.

The _Kitsashi_ is an Oyashio-class JMSDF submarine, and is the main military unit and means of conveyance to the MC in _Weigh Anchor_. As an Oyashio-class boat, it has six forward-facing torpedo tubes and relies on diesel-electric propulsion. They carry aboard a combination of Type 89 torpedoes and Harpoon anti-ship missiles which cannot, have not, and will never carry a nuclear weapon, due to Japan's nuclear policy, which is unlikely to change for the foreseeable future.

The _Kitsashi_ is also not going to appear in this story beyond casual mention, given that her crew and her fate are largely unknown until someone translates _Weigh Anchor_. Even if did, it would never carry or fire a nuclear weapon.

Besides, as Colonel Mullan once said. " _ **Officially**_ , there are no nuclear weapons in the Special Region…"

* * *

 **The Imperial Palace, Sadera**

In his time working for the United States government, Robert Clayton had learned hundreds of useful quotes and idioms, but his experience in Falmart for the previous four years could have best been summed up by "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

Perhaps the best example of this was the peculiar position he'd found himself in at the end of President Dirrel's administration. During his time as Secretary of Defense, he had become the most informed and most involved politician with regards to operations beyond the Gate. As a result, when the new administration moved into the White House the following January, Clayton's name was at the top of the list of potential ambassadors to the Saderan Empire. While the position didn't come with the same level of gravitas as Secretary of Defense, it still allowed him to work with a group of people, both on the other side of the Pacific and the other side of the Galaxy Cluster, that he'd come to know and respect. It also let him remain in the loop with regards to two very exciting projects relating to the Special Region, both of which he was hoping to see conclude before the next Presidential election.

That particular afternoon, he was responding to summons by Empress Pina Co Lada. It was seven years later, but he still couldn't help shaking his head over the idea. He had been present with Sugawara during the official ceremony, but for all that he appreciated Pina's dignity, he didn't think her competent enough to run a chain restaurant, much less an Empire. When Japan and America had offered to help move Falmart to a pure Parliamentary system, she had accepted at once, and then generally left all discussion to her advisors, senators, and a handful of Earth lawyers.

"She does not want the position," Sugawara had once told him. "But with Molt's abdication, Zorzal's assassination, and Diabo's neutralization, there's no one else to hold the throne until the new Constitution is in place."

Clayton ran into Pina earlier than he'd expected. She was gazing up at a large painting of herself, clad in her Rose Order armor, standing proudly while aiming a handgun at an equally armored, kneeling Zorzal. In the picture, Pina appeared triumphant, her brother defiant, and the artist had taken pains with the lighting to clearly bias the audience in terms of who was "good" and "evil" in the scene.

The perfect propaganda piece for visitors, and a complete bastardization of the actual events of the raid. In reality, Zorzal had been captured in his nightclothes by SEAL Team Six. He had then been zip-tied, drugged, and dumped onto the floor like garbage before Pina even made it into the room.

Pina noticed Clayton standing down the hall and, pointing up at the picture asked, in Japanese, "Do you remember this?"

"I was watching the operation with President Dirrel in the White House Situation Room," Clayton said, with a nod. "It wasn't as vivid or colorful though, and it had a large delay."

"I would've preferred that option," Pina said. "I remember… I remember feeling so sick. I should've felt happy that the civil war was over, but I just felt sick. And now? It's starting to look like a new civil war is around the corner, and I'm starting to feel like I felt back then."

Clayton gave her a supportive smile that he didn't feel. "That's what we'll be talking about at today's meeting," he said. "I wouldn't want to start early and leave Sugawara-san out of the negotiations."

"Of course."

The two moved down the hall and through the guarded door of a grand drawing room that opened out onto a balcony. Within, a table had already been set with some refreshments and parchment. Behind each side sat the aides of each group, which in themselves still illustrated the technological gap between the two parties. On Pina's side, a small handful of aides struggled to finish up their arrangement of pens and parchment, and would be scrambling through the meeting to catch and keep up with every word. On the American and Japanese side, two secretaries, one for each country, chatted about a TV show as they sat waiting at their laptops. One stopped in her conversation to adjust the position of a Bluetooth microphone before noticing Clayton's entry, offered him a polite nod, and rested her hands on the computer keyboard.

At the table itself, Ambassador Sugawara was finishing a whispered conversation with Countess Sherry, who gave a high, girlish giggle before straightening up, smoothing out her dress, and, saying, "Ambassador Clayton, always an honor!"

"Likewise, Lady Tyueli"

Every age had its child prodigies; its Wolfgang Mozarts, Alexander Popes, and Jet Lis. They showed up under every field in the arts, athletics, and sciences, and were raved about in public circles for centuries to come. To be fair, Falmart had its share of exceptionally smart people, Lelei La Lelena and Greta Sareteian chief among them, but it had only produced one true child prodigy. Unfortunately, rather than grant her ability in a mundane field like music or physics, the Gods had seen fit to curse the people of Earth by making the Saderan prodigy a Political Scientist.

Sherry Tyueli had only just turned twelve years old at the time of the Ginza Incident, and had shown up on Japan's radar when she loudly declared her intent to court and marry then-Ministry-of-Foreign-affairs agent Sugawara. While Sugawara had initially declined, he had reversed his stance when, a few months later, Zorzal's purges killed both of her parents and placed her, crying, on the perimeter of the Jade Palace Embassy. After a daring intervention by the JSDF, Sherry had found herself moved to Italica, where her connection to Countess Myui Formal lead her to the chambers of recovering former Emperor Molt Sol Augustus. There, she had taken up her studies under the former leader, and had effectively skewered the Japanese diplomats during final peace negotiations. She had then remained in Italica for the remainder of the civil war, and had been (thankfully) absent during the Second Battle of Alnus and the nuclear crisis. In the intervening years, she had grown up to be a beautiful young woman, and while she no longer explicitly pressed her interest in marrying Sugawara, the Japanese diplomat no longer seemed able to shrug off her advances. Now, at the age of 19, she had become a Countess, Pina's closest advisor, and easily the single most powerful woman in the Empire.

Sugawara started first. "Pina, on behalf of our two governments, we wanted to apologize for not accepting an audience with you yesterday, as Ambassador Clayton and I were busy updating our governments on the situation."

"No problem!" Sherry said with a courteous grin and nod. "The additional time gave us an opportunity to come up with an appeal, and outline the dangers currently facing our nation. Isn't that right, Empress?"

Pina nodded her assent, and Clayton was given the impression of a trained dog. _"Us" my ass,_ he thought, _whatever we hear next is going to be 100% Sherry. If Pina had it her way, she'd hand over her whole office to Sherry in a heartbeat._

"Before we start," Clayton said, "I wanted to repeat my administration's regrets over Cicero La Moltose-"

"Yes, I read the letter by Mr. Bezos and Blue Origin," Pina said. "Very touching."

"-and I would like to see, if I may, the assassin's weapon."

Sherry turned around and waved at one of the guards at the back of the room, who approached and put the crude firearm on the table.

Sugawara picked it up first, and, displaying it to Clayton said in English, "I'm somewhat surprised. This could've come from an Elizabethan armory."

"Or maybe a little later. That's definitely a Flintlock." Clayton had seen plenty of these in the private collection at West Point and the Smithsonian, and was deeply unsettled by the fact that the gun in Sugawara's hands had not come from an Earth Museum.

"Our best locksmiths are currently trying to copy the firing mechanism," Pina supplied. "And I am hoping that we'll be able to apply the technology to make canons and guns of our own."

Clayton remembered long ago, standing in the Florida sun, warning Dr. Carol Dawson about this exactly possibility. The idea of guns in the Special Region wasn't far-fetched at all. In fact, Japan's entire gun industry had started when a Sengoku-era lord had purchased a pair of matchlocks from some stranded Portuguese travelers. Within thirty years, every army in ancient Japan was using them. Unlike Japan's Sengoku period, wyvern riders meant that news in Falmart traveled relatively quickly, and the utter destruction wreaked by the JSDF clearly demonstrated the superiority of the gunpowder firearm. Clearly, someone in Rondel had taken the next step and built their own.

"You seem upset," Sherry noted.

"Naturally," Sugawara said, returning to Japanese. "We were hoping that the people of Falmart would be more interested in mimicking our world's tools of peace and industry. To see a tool of war is a painful reminder that not all people wish for the same."

The girl next to Pina nodded eagerly at that. "We were hoping that we wouldn't need to resort to such measures. In the event that a conflict does break out we are hoping that we can expect the support of our Earth allies, as we did in the last civil war."

Clayton leaned back in his chair. _There it was._ During his time as Secretary of Defense, he had heard that same statement, over, and over, and over again, from Africa, from the Middle East, from Southeast Asia, and, yes, from Japan during the end of Dirrel's administration, as it looked like the Korean Peninsula was about to explode. _"Can we expect American support in this conflict?"_ Fortunately, this time he didn't need to make a choice on the matter.

"Since American presence on this side of the Gate is an extension of our Mutual Defense Treaty with Japan, we follow their requests in terms of the level of support we provide," Clayton said. "At this time, they have a hard limit on the scope of American forces permitted through the Gate so the answer you seek ultimately rests with Japan."

The rest of the table looked to Sugawara, who took a deep breath, and said, "We see the rightful Saderan government as regional allies, which is why the government of Japan would be willing to provide limited logistical support-"

Pina rose and slammed her palm on the table, "I don't need logistics, I need _guns!_ "

"Pina-sama-" Sugawara tried, to no avail.

"No, you listen! Japan's unwillingness to pledge early support to me during the last war cost many of my men, many of my _friends_. It cost Sherry her own parents. Had the Jade Palace not been threatened, or if Itami had not provided more than _logistical support_ , then I would likely not be alive today!"

Sherry placed a hand on her arm, forcing her to stop and look down. The advisor shook her head, and Pina, with an explosive sigh, dropped back into her seat. "We appreciate whatever help we can get," Sherry said. "While it is unfortunate that we won't be receiving the level of assistance that we'd hoped for, I do hope that Japan recognizes the ease with which any conflict could spill over into the territory around Alnus, and the value of brining such a conflict to a fast conclusion."

Sugawara gave an appreciative nod and said, "I will relay your concerns to the Diet, that's all I can promise right now."

"And America?"

"America, first and foremost, stands with Japan," Clayton replied.

"Unfortunate. Thank you both for your time."

Meeting clearly over, Pina was up immediately. She stormed out of the room, clearly upset, her group of aides in tow. As Clayton was about to leave, Sherry said, "Koji-kun, I want to have a few more words with Ambassador Clayton, do you mind?"

"Not at all," Sugawara said with a smile, "Take all the time you need, I'll meet up with you later in the second floor gallery."

Clayton didn't want to watch any more and headed for the balcony. The situation between Sugawara and Sherry was a special kind of mess, and he had already written to the State Department about the fact that Sugawara's interests were clearly compromised. The Japanese Foreign Ministry didn't seem interested… or perhaps they thought that the connection allowed Sugawara some sway over Sherry. It didn't, of course, but the Japanese Government wasn't present to know that.

The view from the railing offered a grand overview of Sadera. Like most of the other major cities in the Special Region, Sadera had undergone a significant transformation with the influx of new mathematics and engineering knowledge. Unlike some other cities, however, Pina had been partially at the behest of Rory, who had insisted that Sadera not lose its architecture in favor of modernization. The result was that Sadera managed to keep much of its Classical architectural beauty, while a new, organized industrial center sat outside of the city gates. With resources split between rebuilding old Sadera and constructing new Sadera, it wasn't quite as far along as Rondel, but in exchange it managed to keep that wonderful old-world feel that gave Falmart's structures their novelty. From here he could see one other interesting addition of note, an airstrip, constructed originally at the request of the Imperial Aviation Group, and now serving a small fleet of magic-powered aircraft for scouting, shipping, and message delivery.

"I hear that there are places on Earth like this," Sherry said as she approached. "Beautiful combinations of old and new. Kyoto, for instance. Koji says that he'll take me there someday."

The fact that she said all of this in perfect English was as unnerving now as it was during her earliest attempts. It had taken her three years of continuous effort, and she was one of about four people in the Special Region that had picked up the language with any fluency. "Is there anywhere like that in the United States, Mr. Clayton?"

"America is a relatively new country, so no, sadly." He looked at her and noticed her annoyed pout out at the world below.

"Perhaps that's why you were able to form your Constitution so easily," she said. "The American colonies began with a similar heritage and history, and all of your significant lands were purchased, given, or joined of their own accord. The Saderan Empire doesn't have such a luxury."

It was a painful reminder that Sherry was also one of two Saderans to have ever read an American History textbook. Clayton shrugged. "Democracy is hard, and not always fair, but usually it's fairer than the alternatives."

"Tell that to the Senate. We're still a year away from finishing population representation negotiations with the Warrior tribes to the northeast, and that's an optimistic estimate. Not all the Senators see the rabbit-folk as equals, and are sure to continue fighting against them having a large voting bloc. It was hard enough getting them to reduce the minimum age for Senators so that demihumans could serve at all. This whole thing with Rondel couldn't have come at a worse time."

"You _could_ let them secede."

Sherry shook her head. "If Rondel seceded, it would never end. The Warrior tribes would come next, followed by the Imperial Colonies and every large or formerly independent city on the continent will abandon us. We would become a patchwork of city states like the old Avion Empire, and the only ones to prosper would be those that border the Japanese territory. Italica may side with us for now, but if other parties start to leave? Who knows? And that would be the end of the Great Saderan Empire."

"If this is a plea to intervene-"

"Don't make me laugh. America is already getting everything it wants from the Special Region. Calling on your Congress would be as productive as calling to the clouds in the sky. In fact, calling to the clouds might be more effective; some say the Gods still listen."

"Then what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Rather than spending American money on another foreign war, why not just give us something that belongs to us in the first place?"

Clayton suspected that he knew what was coming next, so he said, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Give us the Imperial Aviation Group."

"Don't you already have one?"

"Yes, but I want the original one. I want Greta."

Perhaps his predecessor had been asked about this more regularly, back when the event was still fresh, but this was the first time that Sherry had ever asked him. "I don't understand," he said.

"The entire core of the original Imperial Aviation Group suddenly vanishes one night, just a week after Falmart is cut off from Earth's science community, and neither Japan nor America appears to care. To me, this means that you either killed them all, or you moved them somewhere else. As for where you moved them to, America currently occupies a small island to the South in support of JMSDF actions in the Avion Sea. It is also, I suspect, where you are storing your Godwrecker weapons."

Clayton smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"Well?" Sherry asked.

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

Sherry gave an annoyed pout. It would have been cute, had it not been in the context of strategic asset storage. "I guess that's the end of our talk," she said, and started for the door.

Clayton was thankful that the conversation had ended there. The deployment of additional nuclear weapons to the Special Region had been a touchy topic with both Dirrel's administration and the one that followed it. Both had agreed it necessary, but thanks to the Second Battle of Alnus, they knew that such a weapon could be deployed far from civilization. As such, the American nuclear deterrent was at neither Alnus nor the American base, but elsewhere...at least three places that would be extremely difficult for any known man or beast to reach, and impossible to attack simultaneously. These were distributed among six mobile launcher teams, half of which had fake warheads of Cobolt-66, so that even the soldiers themselves weren't sure which teams had the bombs, lest any God attempted to guess by listening to their conversations.

"One last thing," Sherry said, and Clayton turned to face her. The young woman had stopped by the door, and looked like a ghost in the dim interior of the palace. "If America did decide to intervene, how fast could you respond?"

But then, America wouldn't need the nuclear weapons for much longer. The smile left Clayton's face, and his eyes became cold, perhaps betraying a glimmer of the dangerous knowledge held within.

"Instantly," he said.

* * *

 **The** _ **Traxia**_ **,** _ **en route**_ **to Falmart**

Since Ellie wasn't sure how prevalent airplanes were in Falmart, she decided that it would be in her better interests to buy passage on a ship bound for the east port of Proptor. From there, she had been told, it was possible to catch regular wagon trains to Italica, and then passage to Alnus.

The price of the trip was surprisingly cheap, as she had been willing to offer her skills as a weather spotter and night-time navigator to the crew. That evening, as she stood on the aft deck by the helmsman, she couldn't help but grin as she noticed the Night Triangle appear on their starboard side and float up into the evening sky.

"Really something, isn't it?" The helmsman said, noticing her gaze. "Makes you wonder how it stays up there, doesn't it?"

Ellie nodded. "If I knew how they got up there in the first place, it would probably be easier to understand."

"You know who would know? Hey, Crassus!"

On the other side of the aft deck, the First Officer looked up at hearing his name called. "Yes, Bennol?"

"Didn't you go to some lecture about the flying things a few years ago?"

Crassus immediately smiled in recollection. "That was the lecture by Greta La Sareteian. Truly a brilliant woman."

"What makes you say that?" Ellie asked.

"Greta was the one who learned how to build airplanes and rockets from the Americans and the Japanese."

She had never heard those last words before. "Who?"

"I forgot, you're a foreigner. The terms that I've heard floating around are the Men in Green and the Men in Tan. The Japanese are Green, the Americans are Tan."

 _Finally, information!_ "What are they like? Why do they call them Green and Tan?"

"Green and Tan is because of the color of their armor and vehicles," Crassus said. "Which is funny, because these are not the colors of their empires' banners. They are like us, but they have no demihumans, speak another language, and have machines and tools that are so strange that they seem like magic… but their world has no magic whatsoever, so they claim."

Ellie's eyes widened. "Their _world?_ "

This time, it was the Helmsman, Bennol, who gave her an odd look. "Surely you heard of the Gate?"

"My town hadn't heard of the Saderan Empire until this week," Ellie argued, but her head was already swimming at the concept. _A gate to another world?_ She had seen and witnessed many strange things both on land and out at sea, but this seemed more like a fantasy than anything else. Magic was capable of a great deal, but she had never heard of any kind of magic that could do something like _that_.

So the First Officer began his story. "There is… was… a sacred hill in Falmart at Alnus. Legend teaches us that all humans and demihumans from our land originally came from that place, in the form of a doorway to another world. Eight years ago, the doorway started to open again, and Emperor Mort Sol Augustus ordered it held in place and widened, so that he could send his armies through to the land beyond. He ordered the construction of the magic Gate, which now connects our world to that of the Americans and the Japanese…"

And so the story continued… the obliteration of the armies, Itami Youji, the Siege of Italica, the legend of the Fire Dragon and the civil war, but these were all in the vaguest terms. "I wasn't there for any of it," Crassus stated. "So I can't say how any of it went down. What I can say, is that the few Japanese that I've talked with were the nicest people I've ever met. Very polite, very approachable, usually friendly… but perhaps a bit cold? It reminded me of talking with aristocracy, except that they have no lords or kings. They have an Emperor, but he is apparently for display only, and holds no actual power."

"So where do the Americans come in?"

The first officer shrugged. "They just showed up one day and started launching rockets. One of them trained Greta La Sareteian a little in the ways of their rockets and airplanes. After the war, Pina put Greta to work building them, and sometimes on clear days you can see one making the trips between Italica, Sadera, and Rondel. After the war, she would go to the cities and towns giving lectures on the skies of Falmart and airplanes and rockets… mostly learned or discovered by the Japanese and Americans. Did you know that the Americans have visited their world's moon? The story was so unusual that I would have waived it off as ridiculous had Greta not provided pictures, and shown us some rockets as examples. If there is anyone who is not from among the Americans or Japanese who would know what the Night Triangle is, it would be Greta."

Ellie found that she was clenching the deck railing in excitement. She had narrowed down the source of the Night Triangle to Falmart, then the Men in Tan, and now this woman Greta. "Where would I find her?" She asked.

"You can't, she's gone."

"Gone!?" Ellie felt the trail slipping away and approached the first officer, so that they were now nearly face to face. "How? Gone where?"

"No one knows! Almost a year after the Godwrecker, Greta and her group of airplane-builders disappeared as well. If the Japanese and Americans know, they haven't said anything!"

 _Polite, approachable, friendly… cold._ Now Ellie didn't know what to think.

Of course, there was that one piece that continued to float at the back of her mind, the melted man from the inn…

Which is why she was horrified when a voice behind her asked, "And what of the Godwrecker?"

Ellie whirled around to see Hector, standing at the top of the aft deck stairwell, his dark cloak making him appear like an evil spirit or ghost as he waited, watching. "What are you doing here?" Ellie said.

But Hector did not answer, his gaze remaining firm and fixed on the first officer. "Well," he said, "I have only heard rumors…"

"Rumors will suffice."

The Crassus looked out at the sea. "There was a second battle at Alnus Hill. They say that the Goddess Hardy, enraged by the destruction of her Flame Dragon, sent an army of monsters to destroy the Japanese and Americans."

And this, to Ellie, was the ultimate fantasy; she had never heard of a god waging a private war against men before. Perhaps it was because individual men were nothing before gods.

"And?"

"Hardy's army was utterly destroyed. They say that the battle was the first and only time that Japanese soldiers died, and even then, fewer than a hundred of them. Apparently, that's all it takes. The next morning, the Americans used the Godwrecker. They say that on that day, the leader of the American soldiers threatened to obliterate the gods themsevles, and the gods surrendered."

This last line was particularly shocking. "Surrendered?" Ellie said, aghast. "They made the _gods_ surrender?"

"Perhaps you were too young to remember, but it used to be that you could pray to the gods for a boon, and sometimes your prayers would be answered. They would also send their Apostles to tour the world and assist the weary, or fight in wars. Since the Godwrecker? Not a single prayer has been directly answered, the priests have refused to speak on the matter, and the Apostles seem to have disappeared. Only Emroy's Rory was still regularly seen in public up to a few years ago, but even she has vanished."

"And may I find the leader of the American soldiers at Alnus?" Hector asked.

Crassus shrugged. "The Americans keep to themselves. Who knows?"

Hector gave a deep bow. "Thank you for that information," he said, turned, and went back down the stairs. Ellie muttered her own thanks and rushed after him, intercepting him on the middeck.

"Why are you following me?" she said.

Hector tried to offer a half-grin, but the mess of his face made it look more like a sneer. "I'm not following you."

"So you just happen to get on the same ship, for the same destination, out of coincidence?"

"I owe you no answers. Out of my way, girl."

He moved to go around her, but Ellie threw open her wings, creating the largest barrier she could. "Yes, you do owe me answers. If I understood those sailors right, you've been hanging around that bar for years. What changed?"

"Let me through."

"No."

"You have nice wings, and I wouldn't want to damage them. Let me through."

"No."

This time, Hector backed up a few steps, held out his hands, palms down, and said, "Last chance, then I use magic."

Ellie folded her arms, waiting. Mage or not, combat magic and ships didn't mix well, and he couldn't see this man splintering the masts or lighting the hull on fire over a simple squabble.

An arc of Lightning appeared in his right hand, and Ellie could feel the static building up in the air. She hadn't been hit by lightning before, but her senses were screaming at her to flee. She found herself wavering, and just as she was about to fling herself to the side, the lightning disappeared from Hector's hand with a dull _pop._

The older magician looked down at his hand in irritation, and said, "That damn Godwrecker!"

"Now you're blaming the Gods?"

"The Godwrecker damaged more than just the gods," Hector spat. "It damages one's magic too. It's enough that I must embarrass myself like this, let me be!"

"Not until you've answered my question."

Hector scowled and turned away. "Very well," he said. "I've seen enough stupid men and women march to their deaths. It would be irresponsible to send a naïve girl to parlay with the Americans unescorted."

She reached down to her hip and drew a six-inch dagger. Monarchs rarely fought, but it helped to have a means to hunt, and a way to cut oneself free of the occasional errant sail, rope, or netting. "I can handle myself," she said.

The older mage took one look at the knife and laughed. "Have you ever killed anyone with that?"

"I've killed animals with it," she flipped it around her hand into a throwing position. "It can't be _that_ different, can it?"

Hector folded his arms. "Hopefully, you will never need to find out."

Slowly, Ellie folded her wings back into their resting position and stepped aside. "You can follow me if you want, but don't try to convince me out of anything… and keep your hands to yourself."

He gave a mock bow, "Whatever you say, girl."

"My name is Ellie."

"If you insist, _girl_."

Ellie watched him disappear into the hold below. His answer was a lie. It had to be—he clearly didn't care for her at all, that much was obvious from his willingness to zap her and taunt her, so then why follow her?

He had spoken about his men before… perhaps he was seeking vengeance? But if that was the case, surely there were other boats to Falmart's mainland. Their voyage together could be coincidence, but that struck her as wrong too.

She gave an irritated sigh, shook her head, and went back to the ship's rail. The Night Triangle had vanished over the horizon, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

 _I wonder if Andromache is still looking for me? Perhaps I'll become an annoying story for the next girl._

She offered up a quick apology to the gods and whichever poor soul was stuck with her mentor's droning, made her way up to the bow of the ship, and looked out across the water. Falmart was out there, somewhere to the West, and her answers waited along with it.


	5. Chapter 4: Engine Checkout

**Chapter 4: Engine Checkout**

 **Rondel, the next morning**

In astronomy, a Red Giant star will give off a number of indicators before it explodes. It will reach a specific mass, change in volume and temperature, and one might see a sudden spike in neutrinos as some of the heavier elements undergo nuclear fusion. Despite all of these things, it is the eternal frustration of astronomers that they lack the means of determining precisely when that will happen. In astronomical terms, "soon" could be as much as ten thousand years, by which point humans might very well visit the star in magnificent spaceships to witness the event in person.

For Professor Shirai, the atmosphere in Rondel was like watching one of those Red Giant stars. The potential was there, he could hear it in the words of most of Rondel's citizens, and that morning he could see it in their press.

When Shirai had first visited Rondel, most books and publications were still created by hand. The mere _introduction_ of Earth's printed copy, even things as simple as public service brochures, had sparked the idea of printing presses, and the one that Shirai was now observing had been in operation for three years.

Before him, one worker dictated a handwritten note to a low level magician, who, focusing crystal in hand, was moving tiny letter stamps from a typeset box to the press' frame at a pace far more rapid than it would have been, had it been done by hand. Not only was it amusing to watch the waterfall of pieces rise out of the typeset box, but the typeset box itself was a wonderful source of nostalgia for Shirai. He could still recall using such a device himself while working on his first college degree, back when computer capabilities were limited, punchcard programming was common, and printers were expensive and rare.

Flat's wife, Arpeggio, hated the new technique. "All those years," she sighed. "I'll never be asked to copy another book. I've been made obsolete."

"But you used to hate the hours," Flat recalled. "And now that it's like this, you can go back into research. If the Focus Crystals are any clue, Alchemy and Mineral Science will only grow in demand."

"But there was an _art_ to it," she pressed. "And it was an accomplishment. This? It's impersonal! They may as well use Dr. Shirai's Kamigumi."

The "Kamigumi" was a desktop laser printer that Shirai kept in the observatory, but Arpeggio had taken to calling the device by the brand, printed in bold Japanese lettering on the front.

As Shirai watched, a messenger ran in shouting, "Halt! Halt the press!"

The fountain of letters stopped, and the magician asked, "What now?"

"Imperial Soldiers at the City Hall!"

Shirai's blood went cold. He had been hoping that the matter would be settled without a confrontation, yet here it was. He quietly backed out of the printing shop and joined the people on the street thronging towards the city center.

In a square before the hall, a dozen Imperial soldiers had assembled and were facing the stairs leading up to the front of the hall, where Chairman Delsus and a number of other councilmembers had gathered.

"Chairman Delsus," the captain of the soldiers stated, stepping forward, "We have orders stamped with the seal of Empress Pina Co Lada and signed by Countess Sherry Tyuelli, demanding that you fly back with us to Sadera for questioning regarding the rejection of the motion set by the Senate, the death of Cicero La Moltose, and the attempt on her highness's life."

Even from a distance, the Professor could see Delsus's eyes narrow, and he watched as the man said, "The rejection of the Senate's motion on secession was the will of the people. If _princess_ Pina is willing to pull her nose out of her Japanese artwork, she is welcome to come here herself and ask them."

This provoked laughter from the crowd and nervous glances from the soldiers, whose hands were starting to drift towards their swords.

"As for the rest, we expressed in our message to the Senate that our representative acted unilaterally." Delsus added. "Even if we disagree with the Senate, we would prefer to avoid violence if it's an option. Are we denied that option, or are your men reaching for their swords in error?"

The captain glanced back at his men and waved them off, but only some of them complied. "That depends on you, Chairman," he said. "Come with us, and we'll settle things peacefully."

The Chairman folded his arms. "I decline. You have no power here. I know it, your men know it, and the fact that Pina sent such a small force is demonstrative of how blind she is to the real world. Begone, the lot of you!"

He turned to go back inside, and the Imperial Captain finally drew his sword. His men followed and formed up, spreading out into a semicircle. "Chairman Delsus," the centurion shouted, "This is your last chance!"

But the Chairman didn't seem to care. He raised a hand, snapped his fingers, and the air before the City hall steps shimmered, then whirled as a magic-induced illusion vanished, revealing two dozen Rondel guards, in two lines, each holding…

Shirai's jaw dropped. _Impossible!_ He thought. _Where did they make them? How did they make so many?_

"FIRE!" The leader of the guardsmen shouted, and two dozen muskets went off at once. Shirai ducked, knowing the historic inaccuracy of such weapons. A few seconds later, he looked up again to survey the damage.

Most of the soldiers were dead or dying, and the three who appeared untouched had dropped their weapons out of shock. These last few were seized by the crowd, and Chairman Delsus spoke once more. "People of Rondel!" He shouted. "Look at how Sadera tries to impose its will on us. When their stupid papers stop working, they resort to violence! When they fail to get their way, they demand hostages! Is this truly a government representative of the people? I hereby call for a state of war to exist between Rondel and the Saderans, until they yield to our demands for a free state! I hereby call for a retaliatory strike!"

A roar of assent went up from the crowd, and Shirai found himself backpedaling away from the square, then turning and outright dashing back in the direction of the observatory. Old as he was and unused to running, his lungs and legs ached, and he had hardly made it twelve blocks when he collapsed on the pavement.

As luck would have it, the first voice he heard was in Japanese. As luck wouldn't have it, it was the voice of Dr. Nguyen.

"Professor Shirai! Professor Shirai! Can you hear me!?"

"Call—army—" he wheezed.

"Call the JSDF? Surely a little slip and fall isn't worth troubling Alnus—"

Shirai held up a hand, coughed, and tried again. "Delsus—shot soldiers—wants war—call—" and that was as far as he got before collapsing again.

"Woah, slow down Hitoshi! Especially at your age, you shouldn't be pushing yourself like that. Let's get you over to the side of the road."

A few minutes later, Shirai had regained his breath, and was explaining what had just happened to Nguyen, who seemed increasingly surprised.

"And here I was hoping that they'd solve this nonviolently," he said with a shrug. "I was with WHO in the Congo a few years back, so while the rush to war doesn't surprise me, I truly thought that both sides might be civilized enough to do it with more tact."

Shirai shook his head and said, "Tact is not their strong suit, or has no one told you of Zorzal El Caesar?"

Nguyen gave a simple smile and said, "Regardless, as United Nations observers, what can we do? It seems like these people want war, will getting involved bring any good from it?"

"Then go tell the UN!" Shirai stated. "Perhaps they would form a coalition—"

"Professor, Japan and America fought tooth and nail against letting the World Health Organization into the Special Region, and now you expect them to permit a multinational peacekeeping force? Or perhaps you see a war-weary America or Japan taking up the slack? An intervention will not happen, Professor Shriai, so we can only hope that the people of Falmart settle their differences as quickly as possible and with minimal civilian damages."

But now the Astronomer stood, shook his head, and said, "No, I must tell them. I must do something!"

"Like what?"

Shirai didn't have a good answer, so he did what he had been doing before. He ran.

* * *

 **Italica**

The trader's wagon bumped against a rock and threw Ellie out of her nap into sudden, panicked alertness.

They had been traveling for well over a day after debarking at a coastal town. Since then, she had tried to catch up on a night of missed sleep—difficult to impossible in the shaking cart, but she was tired enough that she was, periodically, at least, able to pull it off.

Across from her on the wagon, Hector gazed out the window, smoking on a pipe of something with a pleasingly sweet scent. Noticing that she was awake, he gave her a curt nod and said nothing more.

As she was about to ask where they were, and how much further it was to the next city, she became aware of a curious noise. It started as a dull whistling, then a rumbling, then finally a roar. Fearing a dragon attack, Ellie stuck her head out of the wagon and, blinking in the bright sunlight, tried to identify the source.

She eventually found it in a spot of gray against the clear blue… but unlike the airplane she had seen at her villiage, which had glided ponderously out of the sky to a landing, this one was _fast._ She watched it skirt the horizon, bank left, and then rocket directly over them with a thundering that shook the whole wagon and prompted a loud protest from the horses up front. In a flash, she could see the details of the flying machine—an all-metal body and guiding flaps, a small glass canopy, and a hole in the back that spat fire as it pushed the airplane faster than anything Ellie had ever witnessed before.

"Is that—" she wondered aloud, but Hector answered for her.

"The Men in Green," he said. "We heard them the night before the Men in Tan threw the Godwrecker at us."

"How can you tell?"

"We were told." He nodded towards the front of the wagon. "Italica's just up ahead."

This time, she scrambled around to the front of the wagon and stuck her head out between the driver and guard, hoping to get a good look.

Originally, Italica had sprouted as a town at a crossroads between Sadera, Rondel, Alnus, and the sea. With the introduction of the Japanese, its role remained the same, but its importance exploded in scope. Buildings appeared to be going up everywhere, and the streets were choked with wagons as traders from all over Falmart flooded in to trade at the last official stop before Japanese territory. By the southern gate, Ellie noticed a curious building, slightly elevated and made of materials she couldn't recognize, and a road coming out of it that led over the horizon and back to Alnus. The most curious piece of the road, however, was the series of ropes that appeared suspeneded above it by large metal poles.

Noticing her gaze, the driver remarked, "Ah, yes, that was built by the Japanese for their _Densha._ "

"Their what?"

"It's...I'm not sure how you would describe it. It's like many wagons, but tied together. Anyone visiting Alnus usually goes aboard that."

"How do you get in?"

"That place has a spot for buying a visitor's card. You pay them for the card, and they let you on to the Densha."

"Could you drop us off there?"

The driver agreed, and Hector and Ellie found themselves in front of their first builiding from another world. Before it flew a banner on a pole, a red circle on a white field, and Ellie wondered if it was a symbol of the group, or the Japanese as a whole. A signpost outside, written in both familiar characters and unfamiliar Japanese ones labeled the spot as "Italica Station."

But if the outside was strange, her experience of entering the building was otherworldly. She identified what appeared to be a sliding door on the front of the building, and, on reaching forward to grasp it, was shocked when the door slid open on its own.

Ellie jumped back, alarmed, and crashed into Hector. "Did you see—" she began but Hector set her back on her feet.

"So the door moves," Hector said, unimpressed. "A magician with a clever ward can do the same thing. Move, girl. If you're this alarmed by cheap tricks, we'll never reach the Men in Tan.

At the magician's prompting, she walked up to the door, ran through them (lest they close on her in the middle) and was assaulted by even more challenges to her senses.

The first and most immediate was that the inside of Italica Station was _cold._ Not in an uncomfortable sense, but certainly cooler than the air outside. For the middle of the summer, this seemed impossible. _More magic, or a machine?_ She wondered. She looked around the room, trying to figure out where the cold air was coming from, but had no idea what to look for.

The next thing that occurred to her was that she was standing in a brick and stone building with remarkably few windows, yet the room was as brilliantly lit as if they were standing under a cloudless sky. The source for this was easier to identify—strips of light attached to the roof, but these emitted the same cold, consistent white as Braccius''s torch, rather than the flickering of a torch or oil lamp.

Finally, and most alarmingly, the air was filled with music, played on unfamiliar instruments. Like the cold air maker, the performers were absent, and the noise of their performance seemed to flow from tiny boxes mounted to the walls.

Together, the pair joined a queue of humans and demihumans waiting to be attended, and Ellie continued to look around at the pictures and posters on the walls, the strange machines, and, eventually, the people standing around the perimeter of the room.

"Do you supposed that any of these people are Americans?" Ellie asked Hector.

The magician looked around, and shook his head.

"Why not?"

"The Americans have sky-ships, correct? Why would they use this place?"

He had a point, and as they approached the end of the queue, Ellie was directed to a desk at the end of the hall.

Here, at last, was her first Japanese person. It was a woman, about half a head shorter than Ellie, with features that reminded her of a traveler or two from a place further to the east of her home. "Welcome, take a seat," she said, "I'll be with you in just a few moments."

The woman began interacting with an object in front of her, a flat panel with keys like on a musical instrument, and the clattering they made as she struck them was almost musical in its fluidity. As she did, she seemed to be staring up at another box in front of her, and would occasionally stop and narrow her eyes at whatever she was seeing on her side.

As the woman continued with her box, Ellie suddenly noticed the man standing behind her. Like the woman before her, the man was also clearly Japanese, and had similar features, but wore a green outfit and objects on his eyes that seemed to be made of mirrors. She couldn't see his eyes through these, but she felt his gaze on her anyway. The strange pole object slung over his shoulder completed the final element of her suspicions; this was a member of the Japanese army.

"Let's get started," the woman said. "What is your name?"

"Ellie Fe Agne?"

More fluid strikes on the keys, followed by, "And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"And your demihuman background is Siren or Monarch?"

Ellie was impressed that the woman knew to ask that question, since one could easily be mistaken for the other. The difference was simple; Monarchs could fly, Sirens couldn't, or were very poor at it. "Monarch."

"Have you been to Alnus before?"

"No?"

"Have you studied the Japanese language?"

Ellie shook her head.

"May I have the name of your home village?"

She gave it, and the woman's brow furrowed. "I've never heard of that place before. Is that a part of the Empire?"

"It's in the Seiraf Kingdom, across the Avion sea, to the east of here."

"Would you be able to point it out to me on a map?"

"Sure!"

The woman reached under her desk and pulled out a larger roll of paper which she spread out on her desk to reveal…

Ellie gasped. She had seen plenty of navigational charts before, but none with such crisp lines, vivid text, consistent colors, and accuracy at a level that only a master cartographer could hope to match. Not only that, the map was _complete._ It showed every land in the world, even lands that Ellie had only heard about as hearsay, or were speculated on as folktales. Even the great sea-ice to the south was shown in its entirety, and, as far as she knew, _no one_ had ever ventured so far into there.

Noticing her stunned expression, the woman said, "Inventions and discoveries from Earth have been known to give people from this world lightheadedness, panic attacks, nausea, and fainting in rare instances. If you feel any of these things while in Alnus, please move to the side of the road, sit down, and take a few deep breaths until the feeling passes."

"It's just—I've never—"

"That's perfectly normal. Now, your home town?"

Ellie pointed to the location and the woman continued working with her machine. She had a few more questions, like how long Ellie was going to be in the area, political affiliations, education level (including a few simple math problems), if she had any weapons or magic abilities to declare, (Ellie displayed her hunting knife for inspection) and then finally she said, "Okay, we're almost done. Look over here, please."

She pointed to a black circle on the side of the box facing Ellie. The circle was strange… the inside was dark, and it was covered by a dome of glass that reminded her of something like a fish's eye.

"Thank you," the Japanese woman said. "While we print your ID, there are a few quick rules that we need to cover that you must follow during your stay in Alnus…"

The list only contained a few items, but the content of each item was very detailed. Some parts seemed like common sense, like not pulling weapons on other people. Some were amusing, like instructions on where and how to urinate and defecate. Some were even a little scary. "The JSDF base is off-limits. If you are caught attempting to break into the base, you will be imprisoned. If you succeed in actually getting in, you may be shot on sight, depending on the discretion of whomever finds you."

"Is it safe to fly over there?"

"There's a lot of air traffic, and I wouldn't recommend it...oh, your card is ready."

The woman handed her what at first appeared like a small piece of paper, but the material was sturdy, stiff, and had a reflective sheen like the inside of a seashell. It was covered in more of those Japanese letters and, to her continuing shock, a small portrait of herself! The image was a funny one, perfectly reflecting the curious expression on her face as she examined the eye-circle. "Please keep that on you at all times, and be ready to present it at all times," the woman said. "The next vehicle will arrive in ten minutes, and departs from the platform through the red doors on your right. We hope you enjoy your time in Alnus Prefecture!"

Still slightly stunned by the whole experience, Ellie left the table and looked around for Hector. The magician must have been sent through a similar process so he should have been right behind her.

On looking at the service desks again, she noticed that one of the positions was now blocked off by another two Japanese soldiers. Both had their hands hovering above black objects strapped to their waists, and, for a moment, Ellie was afraid that something had happened. Despite this, moments later, the guards dropped their hands and stepped back, allowing Hector through. Warped as his face was, he seemed to Ellie like he was locked in deep thought, his brow furrowed and his eyes with a faraway look to them. He glanced back once to the two soldiers and, in unison, they bowed to him, then walked away.

"What happened?" Ellie ashed him.

"They brought the guards over when I mentioned that I was from Carenth," he explained. "Once I told them that I was a victim of the Godwrecker, however, their attitudes changed. More importantly, they gave me the name of someone to talk to who they said could get us an audience with the leader of the JSDF at Alnus… and maybe the Americans as well."

"That's wonderful!" Ellie said. "And they said that our trip leaves soon from the platform over there. I wonder what these Densha things are like."

The platform had only a few other people on it, and was empty, save for a few benches and a set of big signboards suspended from the roof. As Ellile watched, tiny lights on the signboard morphed from the Japanese characters to her own, and read "Next trip departs in five minutes."

"See?" Ellie said. "Here you were saying that the Japanese and Americans are fearsome warriors, but I think that the truth is that they're just like us...but with more advanced technology."

"In warfare, technology makes a world of difference," Hector said. "A kingdom with steel armor and siege engines would laugh when confronted by barbarians with clubs and spears. Do you suppose that the Japanese were laughing at the Saderan army as they marched into Japan?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and added, "The kindness between two peers is different from the kindness from an adult to a child. Surely someone in your life has taught you that, girl."

Her thoughts turned to Andromache, and Ellie shook her head to clear her mentor's mantras again. Even out here, she couldn't escape them. _Kindness from and adult to a child._ Hector had already inferred on the boat that he didn't take her quest to Alnus seriously, and that only made her want to find the truth behind the Night Triangle even more.

"Do you imagine that anyone laughs when they use a Godwrecker?" Ellie countered.

That settled Hector slightly, and he looked away from her. "I suppose so. I'm not sure how I would feel if they didn't."

Before Ellie could press further, a voice boomed from the ceiling overhead.

" _Mamonaku ichiban sen ni, Arnus yuki ga mairimasu. Abunai desu kara kiiroi sen made osagari kudasai._

"A _densha_ bound for Alnus will soon arrive at platform one. Please stand clear of the yellow line until the vehicle has come to a complete stop.

" _Densha ga mairimasu._ "

This was followed by a repeating musical chime, and Ellie looked to Hector to ask what was going on, but the older magician looked equally puzzled.

"Do you suppose—" he called over the noise, but was halted by a loud honking from the far end of the platform.

As with everything else, the Japanese seemed to have taken the idea of a supply caravan, burnt it down, and built something otherworldly out of it. A series of large metal carts, hauled by a house-sized behemoth that hissed and purred, then screeched as it ground to a stop. At the very front, Ellie could see a pair of Japanese men checking a series of switches and levers, and wondered how such a huge structure could be managed by so few when every large sailing ship seemed to require dozens of sailors to control.

Another hissing noise, and doors on one of the carts slid open, just like the doors in front of the station, and invited them into a room furnished with long couches and handholds.

Hector and Ellie exchanged a glance before Hector straightened up, muttered, "It's just a vehicle, after all," and strode aboard. Ellie followed him, in a trace, her brain exploding with questions. _What moves it? Where did they get all the metal from? Do only two men control it, or are there hidden ones? What was the loud honking noise for, and what made that? And there are lights and cool air in here too!? How does one even go about building such a thing?_

She took a seat by one of the large windows, and was about to voice some of her questions to Hector when another invisible voice announced, "Please stand clear of the doors," and all the doors to the platform snapped shut.

"Curious," Hector muttered. "No crew anywhere. That seems to be a theme with these Japanese… a task that takes us two-score men to complete seems to always be reduced to a single man and a big machine."

"If they have all these machines to work for them, what do you suppose all the people do with their time?"

The magician shrugged. "Bored people will always find things to do."

The cart shuddered with a start, then jumped into motion with a level of acceleration that shocked Ellie. Looking out the window, she watched the poles at the side of the track speed past at first a walking pace, then a horse's gallop, then at such a speed that she began to wonder if she could keep up by flying in any pattern other than a dive.

"You must agree, if we were making this trip by cart, we wouldn't arrive until tomorrow," Ellie pointed out. "There is clearly more to these people than war and destruction. They make good things too—maps, air-voices, cool-air makers..."

Hector snorted, "The example is not always indicative of the whole."

"But this _Densha_..."

"You don't suppose that soldiers could be loaded onto one of these? The only difference between a cargo vessel and a troop transport is the banner it flies."

"I think you're just afraid of new things."

Hector returned a sardonic smile. "Possibly. Or, possibly I know how easily new ideas can be abused."

"How can you ever be happy with the world if you think like that?" Ellie asked.

Hector leaned back into the cushions of his seat and replied, "Used to be that someone you trusted would be the first to abuse them. Do you trust the Americans and Japanese? I don't."

"But—"

"Quiet, girl. Who knows if we'll experience such luxurious conveyance ever again. I wish to enjoy it."

Ellie sighed and looked out the window, as shrubs and tress zipped by at a frenzied pace. She thought back to the station, and the Japanese woman's dry response at her reaction to the map.

 _The kindness between two peers is different from the kindness from an adult to a child._ Thinking back on it, the woman's tone was not far off from Andromache's bored replies to her own excitement. Hector, she supposed, was the same way.

"I have a name," Ellie protested. "Stop calling me 'girl'. I deserve that much."

Hector chuckled to himself and shook his head.


	6. Chapter 5: Advance to Runway

**Chapter 5: Advance to Runway**

 **Imperial Palace, Sadera**

"What do you mean, _the envoy was shot, and they're preparing a counterattack?_ " Pina shouted, rising from her throne. "Where are you hearing this from?"

Clayton looked over at Sugawara, who unfolded the printout of Professor Shirai's email and slowly read the contents aloud. He had warned the Japanese diplomat that this would happen, considering as carrier pigeons, wyvern messengers, and even the new magic-gliders had nothing on satellite communications moving near the speed of light. And now… here they were.

"We warned you about this," Pina pointed out. "Now it looks like we'll be taking matters into our own hands. Sherry, tell General Aldo to muster the men, and prepare to move against Rondel."

Sherry nodded and was about to leave when Clayton added, "May I ask a question of both of you?"

Pina's advisor stopped in place, and he thought that he saw a twitch in her upper lip suggesting a smile. The young woman clearly had anticipated what he was about to say.

"According to Professor Shirai's report, you sent a group of twelve men into Rondel to demand the Council Chairman's peaceful surrender. Knowing that Rondel hosts people with hostile intents, including the man that tried to shoot you, why did you limit the force to only a dozen people? Why not a whole regiment?"

"Our aim was to settle things peacefully," Pina said.

"If that's the case, why were the soldiers attempting to take the Chairman by force? Wouldn't it have made more sense to leave, and then send in a larger force to take Rondel? Allowing your men to be destroyed eliminates your communications link, and is an unnecessary waste of lives."

Pina looked like she was about to say something, but ultimately she looked over at Sherry, clearly waiting for an answer from her.

 _Should've known,_ Clayton thought. _This wasn't Pina's idea at all._

Sherry turned her head to look Clayton dead in the eye. "Surely a great Western nation isn't suggesting that we attack another nation without a violent premise first. What would we tell the people? That we were off to declare war on a country that peacefully disagreed? Or perhaps you would have preferred we excuse it with an American term like "Military Police Action"?"

"You started it."

" _They_ started it with the brutal murder of Cicero La Moltose, and the attempted assassination of our Empress," Sherry stated simply. "If they are willing to threaten some aggression against our government, we must be prepared to respond in kind. If you will excuse me, Ambassador, unless America has anything to contribute, I must now go make war preparations."

"You are dismissed," Pina hurriedly added.

"Well," Sugawara said, switching to English once they were both out of earshot, "That could've gone better. Why did you rile up Sherry like that?"

"Because this whole situation stinks," Clayton spat as they moved from gallery to gallery. "Even if Pina has the tactical brains of a jelly donut, we both know that Sherry is smarter than this. So you tell me, what is there to gain by starting a war this way?"

Sugawara thought for a moment, and said, "You are absolutely correct in saying that a decapitation strike against the Rondel Council would have made more sense. Doing it this way means that Pina may be in for a drawn-out campaign."

"Unless…?" Clayton supplied, waiting for the Japanese diplomat to continue.

"Unless?"

"Unless we commit Earth armed forces to the conflict, or provide Sadera with the technology to end it quickly," Clayton finished. "The two things neither of us wants to do, and both Sherry and Rondel have put together a perfect storm designed to force our hand."

Sugawara blocked his path. "Are you calling Sherry a collaborator?"

"God no," Clayton said. "Rondel can think whatever they want, but unless they have more tricks up their sleeves, they won't be able to beat Sadera in a prolonged conflict. They just don't have the resources or allies to pull it off, even after we take magic into consideration. My guess? Sherry's just a good politician. She saw an opportunity and she took it. A victory against Rondel would drum up nationalist support and strengthen the proposed Saderan Parliament, and any technology would bolster their abilities against anyone… including us, down the road."

Sugawara sighed, looked about to leave, then turned around and stated, "You're planning something."

 _He's not wrong,_ Clayton thought as he brought up his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Robert, can we speak honestly for a moment? I know that before your time as Dirrel's Secretary of Defense you were a Director of the CIA, and before that you were in the military working with the Nimitz Operational Intelligence Center. We all saw something like this coming seven years ago, and I would be shocked if you didn't implement a plan before Dirrel's term ended."

"That's quite an accusation—"

"Accusation? Let's talk about Tyuule."

Clayton shook his head. "I explained the whole thing to you years ago."

"It's worth repeating! Prior to the raid on Zorzal and Telta, we gave your Military Intelligence everything we knew about her, including her formal role as the leader of the Warrior Tribes. Our specific request was that she be kept alive, so that we could start structured negotiations with them as a people. Correct me if I'm wrong so far."

"I still don't see the point."

"So you can imagine my surprise when your SEALs produced not one, but _two_ captured bodies after the raid. It was _then_ , that our State department was finally informed that your think tanks had declared Tyuule a long-term threat, saw the Warrior Tribes as more manageable if they remained shattered under Imperial control, and acted unilaterally."

"Tyuule has a long-term bone to pick against the Royal Family, including Pina," Clayton said. "If we had let her return to the warrior tribes, you'd be fighting an insurgency in the North to this day. As it was, you wound up fighting a three-month counterinsurgency operation against the Haryo tribe. Having seen the bill for Iraq and Afghanistan, you should be thanking us."

Sugawara pressed his lips into a firm line, took a deep breath, then said, "That's not the point. The point is that the United States has a habit of implementing plans without telling us, so tell me. What's America's intent for this specific contingency?"

"Everything I told Pina during our previous meeting is true," Clayton said, folding his arms. "US Military support is limited to what Japan will let us bring through the Gate, and we don't have much to spare until you change that. Our current plan, pending the President's approval, is to work with what we have, on a purely defensive basis, until you change your mind."

"I don't believe you. You must have some kind of Hidden Special Forces team or strategic weapon—"

"I am willing to speak on the record when I say that everything you've seen in the Special Region, is what we have in the Special Region," Clayton said simply. "And we have a specific set of guidelines for use of our strategic weapons, and those guidelines have not been met. There is no fleet of F-35s tucked away somewhere ready to save you. SEAL Team Six has gone home. We will continue to support the JMSDF with our outpost, maintain American-built equipment where applicable, and operate our satellites, but if Japan wants more, you will publically need to come out and say it."

Clayton had been waiting on a moment like this for years, and had practiced that speech in his head at times when Sugawara had been particularly stubborn. It didn't matter, he knew what the answer would be.

But Sugawara's response was not the expected, "No." Instead, he said, "Sherry said that the United States could intervene instantly. Care to explain that?"

The American Ambassador raised an eyebrow, but kept his shock suppressed. Sugawara's question suggested that he and Sherry had already discussed the whole thing. The fact that the Japanese Ambassador was consulting the United States second… was a bad sign. _Was that how she knew about Greta?_ He wondered. From now on, Clayton decided, he would treat any information he shared with Sugawara as a direct line to Sherry.

That said… he could play with that.

"Of course," Clayton said, " _Pending Japan's permission._ "

"That's not how she understood it."

"That's a shame, her English seemed almost fluent."

The Japanese diplomat ignored the insult and said, "I will pass on your position to Defense Minister Nomura."

"Please do. Secretary Barton will be waiting to hear from him."

As he watched Sugawara go, Clayton took a deep breath and shook his head. Now that Sugawara was out of play, the only groups he could still depend upon was the American base and the JSDF. While Sherry had placed herself in an awful tactical position, she had also wiggled into a surprisingly solid diplomatic one.

Clayton knew that he had at least two cards left to play. One, Sherry already knew about, and the other was still, last he'd heard, still in the process of being implemented.

Hopefully, he'd need neither of them, but an irritated part hoped that he'd have a chance to play both, just to prove a point.

* * *

 **Arriving at Alnus Hill**

Ellie had seen plenty of towns and a small handful of cities from the air before. She was used to solid castles and houses made of mud or brick. In most, the highest object was a temple or manor. At Alnus, it was the windmills.

Above the city, perched on the surrounding hills, two dozen slim white windmills, each over a hundred feet high, beat the air over a carpet of bright reflective paneling. 0Below, a city as grand as any she'd ever seen, with carefully organized avenues and roads and buildings so meticulously assembled that they didn't seem real. Even as they pulled into the station, she could see from her window the prevalence of strange moving machines; some large metal carts that moved without anyone to pull them, others twin-wheel contraptions that a rider powered by pushing pedals around an axis.

As she followed Hector off of the train, she was assaulted by a sudden gritty smell—she wasn't quite sure what it was, but it had a sort of strange, sooty texture to it. Beyond that, the noise; the rumble of the self-propelled carts, the statements from the station speakers, the whirl of people… Ellie wasn't sure where to begin, and jumped at a chiming noise that announced the departure of the _Densha_ back down its track to Italica.

It was too much… it was just too much. She found it hard to breathe. She reached out to Hector for support, but was interrupted by a shrill scream.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one that had a severe reaction to the new environment. Several feet down the platform, an older man had collapsed and was being shaken by his wife. Ellie was surprised to see Hector, of all people, rush over and place a hand under the man's nose, then two fingers along his neck, then shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said, looking up at the growing crowd, "This man is—"

" _Hayakyuu! Hayakyuu! Out of way!"_

A pair of Japanese Men had pushed through the crowd, along with a pair of wolf-demihumans wearing black armbands with odd lettering. One of the men repeated Hector's action, waved everyone back, and began repeatedly pressing on the man's chest.

"It's no use," Hector tried to tell him, "He's gone."

But the Japanese ignored him, raised the unconscious man's mouth, and began blowing air into it.

Ellie had seen a similar breathing procedure for sailors that had fallen overboard and nearly drowned, but if the older man was truly dead, as Hector was suggesting, then the tactic wouldn't work.

What she did not expect was the second Japanese man, who had opened a large box and had produced a pair of tiny shears, which he then used to cut the older man's shirt option. Next from the box came what looked like a set of paper pieces attached to the box by string. A few seconds later, the box began to speak in Japanese, and the platform fell into a hush.

After another line of Japanese warbling, the man operating the box looked up and shouted, first in Japanese, then in accented Imperial, "MOVE BACK! DANGER! MOVE BACK!"

Some in the crowd fled, others, like Ellie and Hector, backed just a few feet away, still close enough to see the man performing the chest compressions jump back, and the other Japanese man press a glowing orange button within the box.

 _THUNK!_

The older man's body seemed to leap up with a start, and Ellie had to bring her hands up to her mouth to suppress a shriek. _What were they doing!?_ She thought. _The man just died, and now—_

But the man that had just been zapped shocked everyone by suddenly sucking in a ragged gasp and coughing it back out as his eyes fluttered open. The Japanese were back at his side immediately urging him to stay down.

The old man was clearly scared, but very much alive.

In the past few days, Ellie had heard and experienced all kinds of things in relation to the men in green and tan; cold flames, flying ships, but nowhere in the list was anything, aside from the mysterious Godwrecker, to suggest that these people were capable of beating the Gods at anything, much less forcing them to surrender. Yet, right before her eyes, a team of two Japanese people had produced a mysterious technology that seemed to yank souls out of Hardy's grip and haul them back to the world above-ground. As the consequences of such a device began to dawn on her, Ellie felt her legs starting to go weak and she sank to her knees on the station platform.

 _How?_ She thought. _Where do you even begin trying to solve a problem like that? How could they understand the entire system of life, souls, and gods so intimately as to reverse the irreversible? And they make it look so EASY!_

Above her, Hector had slowly settled into a sardonic smile. "Considering their fondness for kicking the gods in the face at every chance, something like this was to be expected, I suppose."

"You suppose!?" Ellie sputtered. "You saw what just happened! How did they do that?"

"Based on the way that man moved? I suspect they did it with lightning."

Ellie looked at the little box, which was now being repacked, before looking to Hector and repeating, "Lightning?"

"Yes. I have seen people twitch like that before when struck by Lightning magic. If such magic could stop a heart… then I suppose that the right application could be used to restart one. The Japanese got to the man before he was cold—before he was truly dead—and restarted his heart, allowing him to continue living. I hate to admit it, but it's a clever idea."

"So… you're saying… that they trapped a lightning bolt... in that little box."

"Have you gone deaf, girl? Keep up. If we continue at this pace, we'll never reach the Men in Tan."

But it was no easier once they left the platform. The streets teemed with people in all manner of clothes, some native to the special region, others with a distinctive foreign flair that must have been from Earth. Every window was full of signs illuminated by bright lights, and some featured more invisible music-players. Before one store, Ellie stopped to stare at a bright picture featuring drawn characters that nonetheless ran around the screen and waved at her, and was about to wave back before Hector grabbed her lifted arm and hauled her away.

"What are we looking for, anyway?" Ellie asked.

"We need to find the fortress of the Men in Green," Hector explained. "There must be a sign somewhere, and I'd rather not follow soldiers all day. One tends to get a poor reputation for doing that."

"We _could_ just ask for directions," Ellie pointed out.

"I wouldn't—"

She gave an aggravated sigh, looked around, and spotted a woman with long blonde hair walking with a young girl—around six years old—and, based on their Earth-style attire, assumed that they were Alnus natives. Ellie made her way over to them and said, "Oh, um, excuse me, miss—"

The woman whirled around, placing herself between Ellie and the child, and said, "I'm sorry, but if you need help, there's a tourism desk back at the train station."

"Oh, it's not that, we have an invitation from the army and were trying to find their garrison."

The woman tilted her head, clearly somewhat cynical. "An invitation? Why?"

"My name is Ellie Fe Agne. I'm traveling from a land outside of Falmart," Ellie explained. "My traveling companion is from Carenth… he was struck in the last war by the Godwrecker—"

"Oh!" The woman's demeanor changed drastically, her face softening. _What is it about that word that opens all the doors?_ Ellie wondered. It seemed increasingly like everyone who heard of the weapon was sad, even those who were on the side that used it.

Hector appeared at Ellie's side and said, "Ma'am, my name is Hector El Sava. I was a combat mage under King Selecus, and I was told by the _jeeyetai_ at Italica Station to present myself to the head of the garrison here. Can you help us?"

"Of course!" The woman said with a smile. "My name is Bozes Co Tomita, by the way, and this is little Mai. Say hello to our guests, Mai-kun!"

The child looked up at Hector, shied away from the man's disfigured face, and retreated behind her mother again.

"It's okay!" Ellie said, dropping to her knees so that she was eye-level with the girl. "We're friendly, I promise!"

Mai peeked out at her and offered a shy smile, but that was all.

Bozes gestured for them to follow and explained, "My husband is a soldier in the _jeeyetai_. We met years ago, just after the Gate opened. They know both of us over there, so you'll probably be attended to faster."

"He's an officer, then?" Hector asked.

"Ummm… they call it a non-commissioned officer? The Japanese don't select their officers from nobility. Instead, they have two different types of officer—those who rise through the ranks from an enlisted position, and those who go to a special kind of military management and tactics school? My husband could explain it better."

"So if your husband is Japanese, and you're from the Saderan Empire, what nation does Mai belong to?" Ellie asked.

The little girl was skipping along holding her mother's hand, occasionally granting a curious glance up at the strangers.

"The political situation with Japan is strange," Bozes admitted. "Akira says that Mai is technically a dual-citizen, but, as of yet, it's impossible for non-government officials to get a visa to pass through the Gate, so Mai has never seen her father's country. We are represented in their Diet though! Minister Regulus was only an observer for the first six years, but they finally gave us voting power last year! Compared to Japan, Alnus's population is small though, and it's difficult for our minister to convince others of our needs."

Though her words seemed positive, Ellie detected a level of frustration there and wondered if Bozes was bending the truth in places. Was Alnus being locked out of Japanese government, or was it possible that they were being locked out of Japanese society in general? Surely, most empires would want to see free movement and trade within their borders, so Japan keeping the people of Alnus bottled up there was curious. To test her theory, she asked, "Do they at least let Alnus and Japanese natives live together?"

"If they are married, yes," Bozes said. "Otherwise, the Japanese keep to themselves, in a fenced neighborhood closer to the Gate."

 _So it is social separation._ But why?

"As the daughter of a jeeyetai soldier, I would assume that Mai is well cared for?" Hector asked.

"Of course!" Bozes visibly brightened at this. "You should see the _school!_ Mai here can do sums! Sums! I was the daughter of a Count, and I couldn't do sums until I was nearly eleven years of age. Even during my time in the Rose Order I would still reach for the abacus."

As a navigator, Ellie had taken her fair share of math lessons, but to teach it to such a young child… "Is she privately tutored?"

"Not at all! It's a lecture of twenty children, and yet they still manage to cram their heads full of information—history, reading, natural philosophy… Mai, tell them about your project!"

The little girl looked up at her mother's encouraging smile and said, "Sazuki-sensei had us learn about planets and my group got the new blue one, and—and—and it's really far away and made of clouds and it's really cold there, and—and one year there is a hundred years long so you don't get to have your birthday Party for a long time." She looked up at Ellie and added, "I like this planet better."

"That's… really cool!" Ellie said, not knowing what else to say. It had long been speculated amongst astronomers that there might be other planets beyond the known four, so _of course_ the people from beyond the Gate had gone out and found one.

"It's really amazing the stuff they're finding these days," Bozes went on. "I remember back when there was only four planets. Do you get the regular updates from Shirai-Hakase? The JSDF puts his pictures up outside the base at the end of every week. Some of them are really pretty. I hear that one of them inspired the winning dress at last year's holiday gala in Sadera."

By this point they were reaching the edge of the city and had arrived outside of a metal fence. Under normal circumstances, the field beyond would have taken Ellie's breath away, but this time she was namely awestruck by the fence. Normally, cities would build their walls and barricades out of stone or wood. The fence before them spoke volumes of Japanese industry—they had access to vast amounts of metal, and not only could they refine it, they could fold and form it with the same kind of afterthought afforded to bricklaying. She wondered if they had a big machine, like the other machines she'd seen so far, that did nothing but fold metal fences all day long.

As if to remind her that there was more to these people than folding metal, she was struck by a tremendous roar from overhead as one of the metal gliders, of the same sort she'd seen outside Italica, passed low over her head and dipped into the field beyond. As she watched, compartments opened in the belly of the machine, which produced thin legs with wheels on the end. The flyer touched down with these wheels on a great stone road, making a loud screeching noise as it did so, and raced down the path for nearly a quarter mile before slowing to a halt. What really impressed Ellie as she watched the maneuver was the way the plane tilted back slightly before touching down with its rear wheels first, just as she did with her wings and legs when coming in for landing. She had been doing it for so long that she rarely thought about the motion, but seeing it replicated mechanically made her immediately excited and curious.

"Efftoo! Efftoo!" Mai shouted, Jumping up and down with excitement and pointing in the direction of the plane.

Ellie ducked down to the girl and asked, "Is that what it's called?"

Mai, a big grin on her face, vigorously nodded. "There are lots of flying things, but efftoo is the best!"

"There's _more!?_ " Ellie said.

"Uh huh! There's yoo-eeys and co-bras and chin-nuks and see-toos and—and—momma, what do they call the big ones with the two whirly wings?"

Above them, Bozes wracked her brains and said, "Didn't you already say Chinooks?"

"No, the other one!"

It took her a moment, but they she said, "I think it's ozz-pray?"

"That's it! Ozz-pray," Mai concluded.

 _If he's seen everything flying that came from this place, then maybe, just maybe…_ "I heard of something called a rocket," Ellie said. "Have you seen any of those?"

She nodded. "They're really loud."

"What do they look like?"

Mai thought about it a moment, then raised both of her hands above her head so that they touched at a point, which meant aboslutely nothing to Ellie. This confusion only worsened as Mai jumped up and shouted, "VOOOM! Like that!"

"Do you see a lot of them?"

"No, they're very rare," Bozes said. "The last one was nearly a year ago, and usually it's the Americans that want to launch them."

Hector, who had been quiet for some time, asked, "The Americans are over there?"

"Yes, in fact…" Bozes peered out over the airfield and pointed. "There, see the building?"

"Which one?"

"The only one flying a banner that has blue in it."

"Is that their headquarters?"

"It's an outpost. Their headquarters is out at sea somewhere, on an island that they share with Japan."

"I see…"

As they continued their way towards the base entry gate, Ellie listened on Bozes' continued explanation of the various services they had access to at Alnus—indoor plumbing, lighted streets, first access to tradable resources from the Gate… and an endless wealth of entertainment. "Some nights they put up a big cloth in one of the amphitheaters and do moving-picture shows," she said. "They use a machine to record people and play it back as stories… the trouble is that sometimes it's hard to guess which parts are true and which parts are made up for the story. A few months ago there was a terrifying show that had a giant dragon-like beast attacking Japan. The monster could destroy cities, shoot blue fire from its mouth, and shrug off attacks by Japan's most powerful weapons. When it was over, Tomita told me that the dragon didn't exist and the city was still intact… but it looked so _real…_ "

"Perhaps he was only telling you that to keep you from being afraid," Hector said.

Bozes shook her head. "I want to move to Japan some day with Mai. It can't be real."

Ellie gave her an odd look. "Why would you want to move to Japan?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you want to move to Japan!?" Bozes said, shocked, " _Everyone_ wants to move to Japan! If Earth is even half as amazing at it appears in the moving pictures… wonders everywhere! Food stores on every corner! Easy transport to anywhere, no roving bands of bandits, and the knowledge… I had a chance to see one of their computing machines before the restrictions were put into place, and they have this thing on it called Google that knows all. _All!_ I had Tomita ask it what the sky was made of, and as if by magic it produced thousands of essays, and pictures, and moving-pictures… I want Mai to have that. I don't want her to grow up in the dirt like everyone in Falmart did."

Ellie could easily understand her excitement. Earth seemed to have everything so much better, so it made sense to want to go there someday. And yet… she found herself stuck on one line of Bozes's statement. "What do you mean by restrictions?"

"We used to have free access to Earth knowledge. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

"Tomita said that the Earth governments were afraid of what we'd do with it."

There was a first, an Earth group being _afraid_ of something. She looked back over to Hector, who was giving a very self-satisfied smirk.

In the intervening pause, Mai pulled on Ellie's hand and asked, "Can you fly?"

It seemed like an obvious question with an obvious answer to Ellie, until she remembered that the Monarch race was not native to Falmart. "Of course," she said, untucking her wings so that Mai could get a better look at them. "I'd show you, but I was told that I'm not allowed to fly here."

"You should ask them to fly an Efftoo," she stated. They don't let anybody, and dad says it's because it's really hard. But you can already fly, so it should be easy for you!"

That _would_ be fun, Ellie thought. She had never been up in the air under the power of something other than her own wings before. That said, she didn't believe anyone at the base would let her just borrow one. Perhaps she'd have better luck with one of the magic gliders? Did the Japanese operate those? It was a long shot, but she said, "I don't know if they'd let me, but I'll ask! If they let me up, I'll wave at you as I fly over, okay?"

Mai seemed happy with this answer and gave a satisfied nod.

At the entry point to the base, Bozes finally said, "This is where we part. It was wonderful chatting with you both, and I hope that the JSDF can give you what you're looking for!"

"I hope so too, thanks for everything!" Ellie said. Beside her, Hector offered a formal bow and added, "If there is anything we can do for you in the future, please let us know."

As Bozes pulled Mai on their way, the girl glanced back, waved, and shouted something in one of the Earth languages at them. "Bye-bye!" Ellie had no idea what it meant, but she assumed that it was something nice.

"Two worlds, one place," Hector muttered. "Remarkable."

"That they can live together like this?"

"Open your eyes, girl. Separate living areas, no free movement to Earth, endless stalling on admission to government? Alnus is as segregated as segregated can get. The remarkable piece is that the natives at Alnus are so satisfied with it."

"When you come from nothing, everything's a miracle," Ellie pointed out. "And there's still one more miracle that I need to see for myself. Let's go—the Night Triangle isn't going to explain itself!"


	7. chapter 6: Clear for Takeoff

**Chapter 6: Clear for Takeoff**

 **JSDF Alnus Garrison**

When Maj. General Kengun was a young child, he had once asked his grandmother about the scars on her arms and face. She had refused to answer, and it was not until she died that he learned that his grandmother was a _Hibakusha_ , a survivor of The Bomb.

On learning this he had taken a trip to the memorial museum in Hiroshima, in an attempt to better understand what she had gone through, what she had experienced, and why she avoided talking about it. What he saw was horrifying. In one room, segments of walls and sidewalks, bleached saved for the shadows of men and women before they were incinerated. In another, the warped metal of a steel bank door, partially melted and busted in by the shockwave. In a third, the preserved thumbs of a victim, the nails darkened and warped by radiation damage. Kengun stood in front of a diorama depicting survivors right after the attack, where he stared into the eyes of a mannequin of a young woman, her body burnt and raw and the skin practically dripping from her hands… and in that moment he briefly thought that he saw his grandmother's face in that figure. The room he visited after that was the bathroom, in a rush, where he puked his guts out.

The moment he had his high school diploma in hand, he signed up for National Defense Academy of Japan, with the firm conviction that never again would such destruction be wreaked against his homeland or its people. That intensity had followed him through his entire career.

When the Gate opened up in Ginza, he went to the grave of his grandmother and prayed for the chance to see justice done. Fate delivered. Hazama's command was given the honor to push through the Gate, and he, Kengun, would be leading the Fourth Combat Group. In the ensuing battles, he led his men to victory after crushing victory; Italica, Sadera, Beza, and the Second Battle of Alnus Hill, in each, the men under his command ground the enemy into paste, and saw every drop of Japanese blood lost at Ginza repaid in kind with a gallon of Imperial.

And then… the Americans appeared with their rockets. When they first came through the Gate, he had been skeptical of them and thankful that their operations were being confined to Alnus. Later, during the second battle of Alnus Hill, he had appreciated the additional fire support, though he imagined that it wouldn't have been necessary if the 5th Combat Group hadn't lost the initiative. All was well, until Itami told him about the Bomb.

With Hazama under investigation, Kengun found himself the highest-ranking officer of the Special Region Task Force, and, as a result, sitting at the end of a negotiation table as others discussed how they wanted to use the bomb. Of the potential attack plans, he liked the one offered by the scientist, Carol Dawson, the most: the Hydrogen bomb would be detonated over the open ocean, where it would pose no threat to anyone. Instead, he was horrified when Apostle Rory Mercury brought up the suggestion of fielding the weapon against a Carenth attack fleet, and the politicians readily accepted, citing the reduced manpower and monetary cost. "Solve two problems with one rocket," Rory had put it.

After the first pictures came back from the Kawasaki C-1s, Kengun had immediately called up Defense Minister Kono to offer his resignation. In response, the Minister had said, "I don't recall any public announcement of a nuclear attack? In fact, you are being promoted and installed in Hazama's old position as commander of the Task Force. Congratulations!"

The American and Japanese governments swept the entire bombing under the rug, and while both nations refused to confirm or deny that such an attack happened, it became an open secret… so much so that the UN Security Council attempted to issue a ban on Nuclear Weapons in the Special Region (which the USA vetoed), and the General Assembly wrote a resolution to condemn America and Japan's use of such weapons, even though their knowledge was based on nothing other than hearsay. Ultimately, Kengun decided that if Kono wished to treat the nuclear deployment as if it had never happened, then so would he. For seven years, he tried to ignore that he had been complicit in the same horror that had spurred him to join the JSDF in the first place.

That is… until one of his aides entered his office and announced that yet another civilian was demanding an audience with him. "What's so special about this one?" Kengun asked, tapping his pen on the side of his desk in irritation.

" _Hibakusha._ "

The pen fell from Kengun's hand, and it felt like his blood had turned to ice. "What did you say?"

"He's a _Hibakusha._ Apparently, he was a battlemage under King Selecus during the… attack."

"...I see." Kengun stood and added, "Please clear my schedule to allow them in as soon as possible."

The aide nodded and left, leaving Kengun alone with his thoughts. He didn't need long to think about it, since there was clearly only one thing to do.

He made his way out of the main office complex for his private quarters. This part of Alnus had changed little over the years. While some new buildings had been added or modified to support newer technology, most of it was the same prefabricated buildings that the Engineering corps had hauled through in the initial invasion. He had put in a number of requests for updated facilities, but every time the topic came up in Diet budget discussions, the plans were ultimately struck down in favor of shoring up the country's missile defenses, or buying more ships and planes in anticipation of some disaster regarding the Senkaku Islands.

His personal quarters, originally Hazama's, were not particularly large, but they were private, and it had room for some of his personal effects. This time in particular he opened up his closet and pulled out a sword. This wasn't one of the crude Romanesque instruments wielded by the Saderan Empire, nor was it one of the modern officer. This one had been in the family for a long, long time-the shorter of two katanas which some distant ancestor might have used against Mongols, or thugs, or perhaps one of the Warring States. He didn't know for sure and had never thought to get it appraised. Regardless, he tucked the sword under his arm and returned to his office, ignoring the looks that other soldiers threw him along the way. There he placed the sword on his desk, and waited for his guests to arrive. His aide announced the names of both visitors, then stood away from the door.

First into the room was a teenaged girl—not what he'd initially expected, but on closer inspection he recognized the large wings tucked behind her back and was quickly reminded of the Monarch picked up by Captain Etajima's submarine. He had only met Odette Ze Negula once, but he recalled her to be shy and soft-spoken. This girl had a different personality all together, and excitedly glanced around the office, as if she was expecting someone to come out and shower her with diamonds at any moment.

And then… the man in the cloak. He was slightly taller than Kengun (most people from the Special Region were taller than the average Japanese), but when he pulled back the hood on his cloak, Kengun knew immediately. The same kinds of burns and scars clawed their way up out of his childhood memories and he had to grip the edge of the table in an effort to keep from being sick again. _This is my fault_ , he thought. _I did this._

He took a deep breath and stepped away from his desk, giving the man in particular a deep bow. Switching to the language of the Special Region, he said, "Hector El Sava, Ellie Fe Agne, I am Major General Kengun of the JSDF Special Region Task Force."

Upon straightening, he noticed both staring at him somewhat shocked—even on Earth, most cultures were confused to have a Japanese person bowing at them. "I was informed that you would be arriving with questions," he continued. "I am at your service, provided that the questions do not jeopardize the security of my men."

Interestingly, it was Ellie who talked first. "We're trying to get in contact with the Americans, and we were told that you were the person that we should talk to. Can you help us?"

Kengun raised an eyebrow. "What do you need from the Americans?"

"Well…" Ellie shrugged away in embarrassment, so Hector stepped in. "She wants to speak with someone who knows about the Night Triangle, and was told that the Americans were the ones that put it up there. Specifically, it sounded like she wanted to know how one puts something like that up there in the first place, and was hoping to talk to someone named Greta La Sareteian."

 _Ah, this again._ Pina and her cronies had been trying to tease information out of him for years, and he had refused every attempt. "I'm sorry, I cannot help you with that," he said. "We have already told the Saderan authorities that we have no knowledge that we wish to share about Greta's whereabouts. As for this triangle you're talking about, you are correct in identifying it as an American structure. They are satellites, and they are used for aiding navigation and passing along information… or, at least that's what the Americans have told us."

Ellie looked away, clearly crestfallen, to which Hector said, "Ellie, do you mind stepping outside for a moment?"

The girl looked up at him, confused, but ultimately followed his instructions. Now alone, Hector pointed to one of the two green couches and said, "May I take a seat?"

"Of course," Kengun said, settling onto the couch opposite him. "I imagine that your questions are different from young Ellie's."

"Depends," Hector said, folding his hands and leaning forward so that the two were eye to eye. "I also have questions for the Americans, but maybe you'll be able to answer some of them for me."

Kengun tensed, knowing what was coming.

"Were you responsible for Commanding the use of the Godwrecker?"

"I should warn you that the government of Japan will deny anything I say here, should it leave this room, but yes, I was on the committee where the decision was made." Kengun said. "Because I did not do enough to argue against it, I am partially to blame."

He waited for the response. He expected anger, shouting, frustration, but Hector just seemed confused. "You required a whole war council over the use of a single weapon?"

"When the weapon is an atomic bomb, yes," Kengun said. "My nation, Sadera, and the Americans were all involved."

"Who specifically? And what parts did they play?"

"On the Japanese side, myself, Defense Minister Taro Kono, and Lieutenant Itami Youji. As representatives of the invading task force, we had asked for the bomb in the first place because we had been handed a fraudulent intelligence report. The man responsible, Lieutenant Yanagida, is in prison and will remain there for a long, long time.

"On the Saderan side, then-Princess Pina Co Lada and Demigod Rory Mercury. They were the ones responsible for selecting the target.

"Finally, for the Americans, there was Defense Secretary Clayton, Colonel Mullan, one of his specialists, and a scientific consultant, Dr. Carol Dawson. The Americans built bomb and its delivery vehicle, and were ultimately the ones that launched the missile."

He waited as Hector attempted to process this information.

"If you desire revenge," Kengun said, standing, "I am prepared to take responsibility." He went over to the table and presented the Katana to Hector.

The magician looked even more confused. "What are you doing?"

"In my culture, a warrior offers his life if he has performed a major disgrace. The Americans dropped an atomic bomb on my family two generations ago, and I swore to prevent such an atrocity from touching Japan ever again. In doing so, I forgot that use of the weapon was, itself, an atrocity. It's dishonorable, disgusting, disgraceful, and if you would have my life, I would gladly give it if it would restore some of my honor."

At this point, Kengun was entirely focused on the weapon in his grip. In his mind, there was no question that he would do it if asked. He was so distracted, that he almost missed Hector saying, "Let me rephrase the question. Did you _ask_ for the weapon to be used?"

"I did not attempt to stop its use, and that is damning enough," Kengun said, unmoving.

"If you want to call yourself a coward, fine, you're a coward." Hector growled. "I'm not interested in cowards and peons. I want the names of the people who ordered the attack on my men."

For a moment, Kengun didn't know how to respond. _'Coward' is an accurate description,_ he thought. _But what does that mean for me?_

"And put the sword down. You're making me nervous."

The general sighed and did so, then returned to the couch. It was only then that he noticed that his hands were shaking. _Was I really about to do that?_

"The ones who gave the orders…" Kengun thought back over the meeting. Ultimately, he, Itami, and Dawson had all protested, so they did not count. Pina, Mullan, and Minister Kono all went along with the decision, which was still damnable, but the attack ultimately wasn't up to them.

In the end, it boiled down to two people. "You are looking for Richard Clayton, and Rory Mercury."

"How do I meet them?"

Kengun thought about it. Clayton was functioning as an Ambassador to Sadera, and consistently turned down all requests that weren't from a prominent official. As for Rory…

There was a small chance. An offer that had been relayed to him by Ambassador Clayton a few years earlier.

"You're a magician, correct?" Kengun said.

"Yes," Hector said, "But the Godwrecker took most of my powers away."

"We might be able to fix that with a focus crystal," Kengun said, tapping on his knee. Yes, it could be possible… but the other aspect would be a bit more challenging.

"Also," he added, "Your traveling companion, the Monarch. Does she have any interest in trying to fly a plane?"

* * *

 **Outside of Rondel**

While Shirai normally at his lunch in the observatory, this was the first instance that he had asked Flat and Arpeggio over for formal reasons. Flat's wife was the first to point out the oddity over her third helping of yakitori as she pointed out, "You usually ask us to join you over dinner, why the change?"

Shirai set down his chopsticks, paused to swallow his food, and asked, "What is your opinion on Rondel's declaration of war?"

The other two looked at each other, and Arpeggio answered first. "It makes me nervous," she said, laying a hand on her very pregnant belly. "If the JDSF decide to side with Pina… I don't want my family caught in between."

"It's not a well-thought-out declaration either," Flat pointed out. "I understand where Chairman Delsus is coming from—the taxes on Rondel have been bad, but a conflict with Sadera wouldn't make things better. With Italica on their side, all Sadera needs to do is cut off the merchant wagons to Alnus, and what would Rondel do then? Who would they sell to? The priests in Bellnahgo? The tribesmen in the northern deserts or near Knappnai? All of Rondel's other trading partners are deep in Saderan territory."

"Yes, Sugawara-san pointed out the same things," Shirai said with a nod. "He also had an interesting… request. Would you be willing to assist us, Flat?"

Arpeggio looked to her husband and shook her head. "Whatever your government wants, they can forget it. I'm not risking my husband."

"There's no risk involved," Shirai said, though he didn't feel that way at all. If anything, this discussion reminded him of his appeals for grant-money before the Gate opened. Promising the world, even though he knew that options were limited.

"He will simply be going into the Rondel Council chamber on a regular basis, and let me know about the status of the war if he hears anything," Shirai continued. "I'll pass the information along to Japan, and, I promise, it will be kept for observational purposes. Not used against Rondel."

"You want him to spy for you," Arpeggio said, bitterly. "Absolutely not."

"What? No. This is about your safely as much as his. Sugawara said that he's worried about the Rondel Council coming after me or the other Earth people working in Sadera. If they come after me, they'll come after Flat, and possibly you. The JSDF needs to understand the situation so that all of us can be evacuated, should we ever find ourselves in danger. As it is, Dr. Nguyen told me that most of the workers from the World Health Organization are pulling back to Alnus, out of fear of getting caught in the conflict."

"Then why don't you leave?" Arpeggio said. "You don't have to stay."

"Well…" Shirai gave a nervous laugh, then pointed over his shoulder at the telescope. "I can't exactly load my equipment onto a bicycle, can I? And the WHO didn't bring the tools to dismount it and place it on one of their trucks."

"Call in a JSDF Helicopter, ask them to pick it up!"

""The JSDF wants to avoid getting involved. The debt incurred in establishing Alnus is a constant talking point in the Diet. From what Sugawara said, they want to put if off until there is no other choice."

"Then destroy the telescope!"

"I was not left with the tools to do that either, and there's a danger of Rondel academics trying to reverse-engineer the technology. It may not seem like it to you, but some of the devices on the telescope are dangerous. The laser pointer, for example? The Americans have a big one that they mount on warships for burning things out of the sky. The JSDF has the equipment to destroy everything properly, but it is too dangerous to leave with me. Besides, I'm an astronomer, not an explosives expert. I wouldn't know how to do it."

Arpeggio turned angrilly back to Flat and said, "You tell him that you won't, _right now._ "

Flat looked back and forth between his wife and his colleague before saying, "Japan wants me because no one else can do this, right?"

Shirai nodded.

"And it's occurred to you that if I am caught, I'll be killed, right?"

Shirai started to nod again, but Flat interrupted with a cold, "No, Professor. I want to know—do you value my life so little that you are okay with this?"

Sugawara had given him several things to offer Flat, but had told Shirai not to use the most valuable one unless there was no other option. The truth was that Shirai had intentionally structured the conversation to make the deal seem one-sided. To _force_ their near refusal, because the most valuable offer was the only thing that the Professor felt that Flat and his family deserved.

"If you agree," Shirai said, "Your family would be granted leave to become the first from the Special Region to immigrate to Japan. Not the Alnus territory, either. Japan on _Earth._ "

This recommendation brought both Flat and Arpeggio's arguments to a grinding halt, and they both sat back in their seats, dumbfounded. _No one_ , from Falmart had been able to move to Japan, not in any of the years the Gate had been open. Even the Alnus representatives were not permitted to bring their families. If Shirai was being honest, he was offering them the world. _His_ world.

Flat spoke first. "I just need to listen and report? No fighting, no sneaking into places, just go to the council and listen and report?"

"Flat," Arpeggio stared, grabbing her husband's hand, but he turned around to face her and grasped her hand tighter.

"It's _Japan_ , Alfie," he said. "It's our chance to get away from all of _this_."

Shirai watched as her cheeks flushed and the tears began to appear in her eyes. "F-fine," she stammered, "It's n-not l-like I'm scar-red for you or anything. Idiot." With nothing further to say, she got up and rushed out the door to the observatory.

Since the conversation was in Japanese, Shirai bit down hard to keep himself from the heartfelt, faux-irritated ' _baka'_. While Arpeggio had mellowed down over the years, it was amusing to see that some of the old tsundere tendencies hadn't been completely stamped out.

"So," Flat said. "What is the plan for evacuation?"

Shirai opened up his laptop and turned it around so that it was facing Flat. On the screen, a list of bullet points helpfully provided by Sugawara. "You and Arpeggio will stay at the observatory from now on," the professor explained. "If something were to happen, I would make the call using email and a radio. Sugawara insists that a Special Forces group is nearby, ready to extract us, and they will take us somewhere that will serve as a landing zone for the helicopter. That's all I have been told."

"And if we are outside walking the streets when the need arises?"

"Keep inside at nights. We are high enough above the city here that you can see the observatory dome from most directions. If there is a need to evacuate, whomever is at the observatory will point the dome north. You already know how to do this, and we can show your wife later on."

As they continued through the details, they heard a knock at the door. Shirai, taking as much care as he could, slowly opened the observatory door, and then opened it fully on seeing Dr. Nguyen waiting there. "Ah, Hitoshi," the Doctor said, "Are you busy?"

Shirai looked behind him and saw, with profound thanks, Flat closing the lid on his laptop. "We were a little busy discussing how the impending war would affect supplies and operations for the telescope."

"Ah yes, those of us who are staying do need to plan these things out," Nguyen said with a nod. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, you see—"

"Please," Shirai said, stopping him, "Let's take a walk." He didn't want the World Health Organization doctor asking questions to Flat, and he doubted that Japan had clued Nguyen's home country in on Sugawara's plan.

They had only gone a few feet down the path from the observatory hill before Nguyen resumed, "As I was saying, most of my countrymen are pulling back to Alnus. Cowards, the lot of them. It is during wars that doctors and medics are needed the most. I'm thankful to the few that are staying with me, and I'm glad to see that you are not running off with the others."

Shirai sighed. "It would be troubling to leave. While Apocryph growth rates have slowed substantially, Japan still wants to keep a firm eye on Falmart's skies, and Alnus is not a good place to set up an observatory—the airfield was creating more than enough light pollution before they began wiring the civilian settlement with electricity." It was a stupid reason, but it was the one that Sugawara had provided him.

"I don't see what the big fuss is," Nguyen went on. "I was in Yemen for a while. That was hellish, but these people in Falmart keep their wars much more contained."

"We'll see how long that lasts," Shirai said. "It's one thing for the Empire to sign the Geneva Convention. It's another thing to enforce it. Itami told me of the first time that he brought it up to Pina in Italica… that was only seven years ago, and while the technology has changed, the culture is still lagging behind."

"I meant the scope of a given battle, not the targets."

"Ah, then in that case, we can be thankful that neither side has developed guided bombs yet."

Nguyen hesitated, then said, "Indeed. We will need to wait to hear the reports on the air raid to hear how that turned out."

Shirai froze, taking a moment to go through what Nguyen had just said. "What air raid?"

"Rondel's magic glider squadron, of course. Eight of their planes took off for Italica a few hours ago."

* * *

 _Author's Note_

I had the unusual opportunity to visit the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum back in 2003. In this chapter I tried to capture a small snapshot of my own experiences. Every exhibit listed was actually there, though the exhibit with the mannequins, "Victims Hovering between Life and Death," was removed during renovations in 2017.

If you find yourself in Japan and have the chance… go.


	8. Chapter 7: Throttle to Maximum

_**Author's Note:**_

I've had a lot of fun reading the theories in the reviews regarding the Night Triangle. None of them have been right so far, but lots of good ideas all around!

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Throttle to Maximum**

 **Airstrip at Alnus Garrison**

"Your chance at seeing the Americans is contingent on how well you can learn to fly a plane in the next few hours. Are you willing to try?"

Ellie sat there for a moment, gobsmacked as she listened to the Japanese officer deliver his request. They were going to let her up? Just like that?

"I want to try, but I'm still getting used to all these new inventions," Ellie pointed out. "How hard is it to understand an Efftoo?"

The officer stared at her for a second, confused, then broke into a grin. "We don't let civilians touch the fighter jets. You're going to learn on a Mag-3. Built locally and much easier to learn, so I'm told."

The name sound familiar… and then she remembered. He was referring to one of the magic-powered airplanes… the same kind that had landed at her town and started her journey to Alnus in the first place. So much had happened that it felt like ages ago, and she wondered if Andromache had declared her dead yet. If the ambassadors from Sadera could learn to fly a Mag-3, then she probably could as well. "Great!" she said, "Which way?"

The officer lead her out onto the airfield—the giant road that she'd seen the Efftoo land on earlier—and past many of the flying machines. She asked the officer to name each one as they passed.

Earth flying machines were divided into two types—thick-winged planes like the F-2, and thin-winged helicopters such as the "Cobras" and "Chinooks.". As they passed a C-1 Kawasaki, she wondered how such a stiff, lumbering beast could make it into the air at all.

Eventually, she said, "You haven't pointed out any Ozz-preys. Are they an airplane or a helicopter?"

"Vee-twentytwos?" The officer thought about it for a moment, then said, "A little bit of both, I guess. It would take a while to explain, and it looks like the Americans don't have any of them are here right now. If one gets in when you get back, I'll point it out to you."

They eventually stopped at a small hangar near the end of the runway, and a young woman dashed out to meet them. "Hatori-san!" She called, a big smile on her face, "Are we going up again today?"

"Not you and I, I'm afraid. Kengun is curious to see if this girl can pick up piloting." The soldier pointed to Ellie. "I'll show her around the plane, go with you on a glide run or two, and then you can go test her on something longer-distance."

She shrugged and extended her hand, "Myuute Luna Sires, nice to meet you!"

On closer observation, Myuute was a demihuman, like her, but where Ellie was a Monarch, Myuute was a Harpy, as was made clear by her birdlike legs and feather clusters instead of hair atop her head. Ellie also stuck out her hand, and said, "Ellie Fe Agne, nice to meet you too!"

The soldier, Hatori, looked at the scene of the two girls holding out empty hands and smirked before Myuute took the extra step of grabbing Ellie's hand and shaking it. "It's an Earth custom," she explained. "Don't worry about it, you'll get used to them!"

Together, the three pushed open the large hangar doors, allowing the mid-morning sunlight to flood in and illuminate the aircraft inside.

The design was familiar to Ellie, but she hadn't been able to get close enough to touch it before.

The overall design was 33 feet long and had a wingspan fifty feet wide… in actuality, it was a double-wingspan, since there were two wings on each side, one above the other, held structurally taught by rope cables. Beneath the aircraft, two large wheels, supported by a third smaller one in the rear, suggested that the whole thing could be towed, or possibly just ridden like a cart if the plane could move on its own. The whole thing was made of wood, and when Ellie rapped on the side of it with her knuckles, she was surprised to find it to be light, but strong, not the thick heavy stuff she was used to seeing in carriages or ships. Here and there, metal fittings helped hold the aircraft together, but it was very apparent to Ellie that an aircraft like this could be sourced from several carpenters and one blacksmith, and could probably be assembled in a month or less. She ran a hand over the sanded, needle-like nose of the airplane and corrected her estimate to two months maximum. Regardless, she felt then as she had felt before; someone had put a lot of thought into this vehicle, and while it shared some similar design elements with the Eftoos and See-wons, it was clearly more than just a copy.

"Take a seat up front," Myuute called. "The front seat is the dedicated pilot, the second seat is the flight engineer and glide backup, and the third seat is the backup engineer."

"Why do you call it an 'engineer'?"

"Greta said that it was because Earth planes have Engines, and they used to have a troubleshooter onboard who knew how to control them called an Engineer. Mag-Threes use magic instead of engines, but the role of the magician as a manager and troubleshooter for the airflow ward is just the same."

Ellie wanted to ask her more about Greta, but figured that they would have plenty of time once they were up in the air. Instead, she hoisted herself aboard the aircraft and settled into the front seat.

The fuselage contained three seats, one behind the other, each facing front. Each of them relied on a belt-like strap assembly to keep the rider from floating out of their chair during a dive. In the first two of these seats, Ellie identified a rudimentary set of controls. Where a ship would have a wheel or tiller, the airplane had a single upright stick and a pair of foot pedals. "Try them out!" Myuute said.

So Ellie started with the left pedal first, and heard a creaking behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, she noticed that the vertical panel at the back of the plane had split in half— no, that wasn't right. It had been on a hinge the entire time. Pressing the pedal had pulled the hinged part out to the left. "That's the rudder controls," Myuute explained. "Just like on a ship, the rudder makes the aircraft yaw left and right."

It was as if a light came on in Ellie's head. She could vividly recall doing something similar with her legs while flying, and realized, with a start, that the whole point of the strange bending panels at the back of the airplane were there to control air flow. _So if that's left and right, what if…_

She pulled back on the stick in front of her, and heard another noise. "That's the elevators," Myuute continued, "They pitch the nose of the airplane up if you pull back on the stick, and down if you push it away from you."

There were only two control surfaces at the back of the plane, so Ellie was puzzled as to what left and right on the stick would move, so she tried it. This time, hinged panels on the main wings moved; one up, the other down. "And those are the ailerons," Myuute finished. "They roll the airplane to the left or right, depending on which way you move the stick."

"Let's get moving!" Hatori said, jumping into the second seat. "I'll operate the controls the first flight so you can see how it all works together. We'll see how you do with the second flight."

Myuute took her place in the third seat and began muttering an incantation. For a moment, the wings of the aircraft seemed to glow, and Ellie was suddenly caught in a gust of wind. "We use the wind for two things, thrust and lift!" Hatori called to her. "Thrust keeps us moving forward through the air, and lift pulls us up when the air is moving fast enough over the wings!"

"They don't flap?" Ellie asked.

"They don't need to," Hatori said. "The shape of the wing makes it so that the air above the wing is lower-pressure and moving faster than the air beneath the wing. If we were to look at your wings from the side, they would have a similar shape. When a bird isn't gliding but is actually flapping their wings, they bend the wing down at a slight angle and push this wing-shape forward, it creates a combination of lift and pushes you forward—thrust. Since the wards are designed to pull air through the wings, we get all the thrust we need without copying the downbeat you see in birds."

It wasn't the best explanation, but Ellie understood the general concept, and the more she thought about it, the more correct it sounded. After all, flying to her was like walking; she didn't think about the details of the motion much.

Beneath them, the wheels started to turn and the aircraft pushed its way out of the hangar and onto the tarmac. "I checked with the tower!" Hatori shouted back to Myuute. "Next air patrol won't be back for a few hours, so the runway's ours."

Together, they rode down a painted track towards the long stone path that Ellie had seen from the other side of the fence. From this angle, looking straight ahead, the airstrip looked to Ellie like she was looking down a river, rather than a road. For a moment, she was distracted by the idea that any civilization could lay down so much smooth stone, but her attention returned to the present when the gap in the wings erupted with hurricane-force winds. The airplane picked up speed, slowly at first, then faster and faster, just like the _densha_ from before.

For Ellie, getting up in the air usually meant a running start of a few steps, or jumping off of a ledge. The Mag-3 required more than a few steps, speeding down the runway at a breakneck pace. To her surprise, she felt the plane slowly pitch forward as the tail lifted off the ground, followed by a curious sensation, as if she had suddenly dropped a foot, then was being hauled up into the air.

And indeed, around her, the ground dropped away. In a fit of ingrained panic, her wings snapped out and immediately rebounded against the sides of the fuselage with a dull thud and spike of pain like a stubbed toe. In that instant, she was of two minds; a rational component that said, _of course I don't need to have my wings open, the airplane is doing the flying,_ while a deeper, irrational piece of her own biology screamed, _you're in the air and your wings are closed! You don't want to die! Open your wings! OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!_

She squinted and shook her head, but the thoughts wouldn't go away. Instead, she took a deep breath, and forced herself to find something, some part of her lessons that could save her.

In the end, she found dry, old Andromache and one of her lectures, this time on landing during a storm. _"Don't fight it. If you do, you will exhaust yourself, and then you will surely die. Deep breaths. Work_ with _the air currents to bring you down somewhere tolerable. Breathe. Move with purpose. Fly now, panic later._

And so she did just that. On the first breath, her mind cleared. On the second, her heart rate was starting to slow back to normal. On the third, her wings began to close back into place.

On the fourth, she opened her eyes.

From the air, Alnus looked much like it had from the train, with the giant windmills on the hills, and the gemlike structures reflecting sunlight below them. Yet, up here there was only the sound of the wind, the occasional creak of the control surfaces… and, the more she thought about it, the stark absence of the thrumming of her own wings. It occurred to her that she would never get tired flying this way, and that a tag-team of magicians, like what she saw at the start, could propel an aircraft well beyond the range of a flame dragon.

She glanced over her shoulder to look at Myuute, who had one arm down in the fuselage somewhere, and the other resting on the outside edge of her compartment, hand gestured up at the wing as she maintained the magical ward.

"Take the stick!" Hatori called from behind her. She looked down at the control column, otherwise ignored during the flight, and wrapped her hands around the end.

"Okay," Hatori said, "Give me a slight roll to the left."

Slowly, Ellie drew the stick in that direction. The controls were more sluggish than she was expecting, and she could feel the stick under tension as she pulled it to the side, but the plane eventually responded by rolling slightly to the left, placing them into a lazy left turn.

They went through a few other simple maneuvers, and Hatori guided her through and approach back to the runway, then took over for the actual landing. "That was amazing!" Ellie declared, once Myuute had deactivated the magical air-wards. "And it's so much like real flying...oh! Can you do flips and stunts?"

Myuute gave her a horrified look and Hatori laughed. "No one's tried yet. This plane's Falmart tech through and through, so while they learned about airplanes from copying Earth designs, they haven't done much with aerodynamic theory… and I'm under orders not to give them any ideas."

"Then can I try?"

"Let's see you properly land one of these before you hurt yourself trying anything like that… and Myuute might not be as up to it as you are."

"I'm not afraid!" Myuute protested. "It's just...I've never done anything like that before."

"How do you power the airplane anyway?" Ellie asked. "I mean, I know that it's magic, but you're moving a lot of air for a long time. Don't you get tired quickly?"

Myuute smiled. "Back during the MagOnes, I could give you about thirty seconds of flight time. You should have seen poor Greta, tearing her hair out as she tried to find ways to get the weight down, and the speed up. The MagTwos were better, lighter, easier to control, but the game didn't really change until Rondel discovered Focus Crystals."

The magician shifted a few latches in her compartment and produced a sparkling purple-blue crystal shard. "With this, even someone with latent, tiny amounts of magic power could use magic. There's been a huge explosion in magic-users over the past several years, and Rondel can't mine enough of these to keep up with the demand. For magic-powered planes, they changed everything. Suddenly, a beginner could power you halfway from Alnus to Italica, then have enough energy to race you to Countess Formal's Manor once you landed."

Ellie reached out to touch the large gemstone, but decided against it. She was here to fly, after all, not play around with magic. "What if… I don't know… Someone dropped it over the side in the middle of the flight?"

"Then you lose thrust," Myuute said. "And you'll need to glide back down to the ground. Otherwise, the airplane will stall in the air and fall out of the sky."

"And that's why you're going to practice that first," Hatori said. "Let's go up again."

They spent the next two hours practicing, and once Ellie was able to transfer the laws of flight that came naturally to control over the MagThree, she picked up powered flight remarkably quickly. On her third successful landing, she noticed Hector waiting by the hangar and rushed over to him, shouting, "Did you see that! Perfect landing, right on the centerline!"

Hector gave and amused snort and, looking to the JSDF officer, asked, "What do you think?"

Hatori grinned. "She's unnaturally good. Most people from Earth need months to learn most of these concepts, but she got the hang of it in a few minutes."

Ellie shrugged. "Maybe it's because I'm taking things I already know and putting them into flying the MagThree. If I grew up without wings, it would probably be months like Hatori said. The only thing I'm learning is how quickly the airplane acts when I move the controls, but I'm getting better at it!"

"Is it good enough to take us to the Americans?" Hector asked.

The Japanese man thought about it, then said, "She should try a solo flight first. Myuute, do you mind taking her up for a longer round-trip to Italica while I prepare a report?"

Myuute nodded and started back for the plane. Ellie, meanwhile, asked, "What have you been up to, Hector?"

The magician produced a Focus Crystal and said, "I've been experimenting with one of these things. It's remarkable, watch this."

He held up his hand, and the air seemed to shimmer for a moment before a fountain of snow burst forth, twisted around in the air, and solidified into a massive icicle. With a twist of his hand, the icicle shot across the runway where it embedded itself on the grass on the far side. "It was difficult enough to do something like that even before the Godwrecker," he said. "Now? It's simple."

"That's wonderful!" Ellie said. "See? This journey _has_ been worth it so far!"

For a moment, Hector's smile seemed to falter, but it was quickly back. As Ellie wondered over his reaction, the magician said, "Focus Crystals are an invention of our world. Not _theirs._ "

"You're still complaining about that? The Japanese General seemed like a good man, surely—s"

"The weapon—the atomic bomb, they called it—was not invented by Japan, and it was once used on them as it was used on us. Responsibility rests with the Americans, and until I meet the one who gave the order, I will not be satisfied."

Ellie sighed. "I won't argue with you about the Godwrecker, but look around you! Can't you see how many _good_ things Earth technology has brought to this world? Light no longer needs to burn, people that collapse need not pass into the void, and _anyone_ can fly. Our world is better because of it!"

Hector's smile faded. "We'll see," he said, then turned and walked away.

Myuute approached Ellie from behind and, looking after the older magician, asked, "What's his problem?"

"Stuck in the past," Ellie said. It wasn't his world anymore. It was hers, a world of _wonders_ , and she loved it.

Together, they headed back to the plane. "Bring it back in one piece!" Hatori joked, "And if at any point, you can't take it, let Myuute know, and she'll take you in for a glide landing."

With that, the two were soon alone, wheeling out onto the runway again. "So," Ellie asked. "Italica?"

The flight engineer flashed an excited grin, held up her hands, and kicked the plane's air-wards into gear. "Italica!" She agreed.

* * *

20,000 Ft, Alnus aerial exclusion zone.

In the seven years that Kurihama had flown out of Alnus, everything had changed.

Initially, he had been the backseater for Kamkoda's combat air patrol missions in an aging F-4 Phantom II. These were the last that the JASDF operated, and the plane had been chosen for its pre-satellite communications and navigations technology. The Phantom had proven its worth in downing dragons and fighter-bombing Saderan-opposition fortresses, but lots of taxpayer Yen was being sent to America for replacement parts, and the JASDF was under pressure from the Diet to move to a home-grown system.

The pressure finally produced a diamond five years later. The crisis in Korea resulted in a sudden explosion of military spending, and JASDF airbases began to retire older planes in favor of F-35Js and Japan's new domestic interceptor, the F-3. In the push, the Phantoms were finally scrapped, and Alnus found itself in possession of the comparatively newer Mitsubishi F-2 "Viper Zero." Kamikoda had expressed his regret to him that the new plane was a single-seater, but Kurihama was looking forward to the peace and quiet.

While traditional F-2s were satellite-dependent for navigation, engineers had been able to patch the hardware absence with a software solution—a set of gyroscope sensors and input from the flight instruments were combined to calculate the airplane's position, with occasional readjustments whenever the American satellite constellation flew overhead, or the plane was line-of-sight with Alnus's radio beacons. It wasn't perfect, but the results were close enough to make up for the absent navigator.

That afternoon, as Kurihama was forty minutes into his combat air patrol by Italica, he reacted with a snort as his IFF system detected the tag from Alnus's MagThree. Hatori was a younger Japanese test pilot, and while he was honored to get to test a novel means of flying, that honor was about all he was getting from the experience. Kurihama had gotten tired of Hatori's constant, irritable moaning about how he could be back in Hokkaido working on the X-4, but _no,_ he was stuck here, "dicking around with a Wright Brothers knockoff." That said, both Japan and the US had substantial interest in the flight dynamics of magically-powered aircraft, but neither was much closer to harnessing magic through technology back on Earth… at least not outside of the explosion of anime and Hollywood films that followed its confirmation to the general public.

As such, he pulled his aircraft up into a lazy arc that took him north, and was shocked as his AESA radar array picked up several signatures. It wasn't entirely uncommon for Wyverns or MagThrees to travel in groups, but this was the largest group he had ever seen, by far.

He decided to call it in. "Alnus ATC, this is Hawkwind 02, there's a large group of fliers inbound from Northwest of Italica. Did you hear anything about this?"

A few seconds pause before the Air Traffic Controller replied, "Nothing, but the Empire rarely shares flight plans unless they're inbound to Alnus. Do you have a bearing?"

The combination of the hilly terrain around Alnus and the demand for windmill generators meant that Alnus ATC was at a major disadvantage when it came to airspace awareness in the Special Region. Sure, the Air Surveillance Radar at the garrison gave them a sixty-mile radius of coverage, but the fact that the Special Region's most powerful airborne threats has been beaten by a pair of Generation-3 fighters diminished the case for better resources. The Diet reluctant to spend money on a Long Range array, and the JSDF felt (and rightly so) that their AWACS assets were urgently needed against threats on Earth. As a result, flights beyond ASR were managed the old-fashioned way, by some poor Non-Com with a whiteboard and a marker.

"Three-two-zero, altitude six thousand feet."

Another pause. "Understood, continue to monitor."

"Copy that." Kurihama said. He wasn't overly concerned, but the scale of the air wing still struck him the wrong way. The rules set by Command stated, however, that Earth pilots were to treat all Imperial aircraft as civilians and keep away. Besides, flying in formation with a MagThree would involve a profoundly irritating maneuver that yanked the nose of the F-2 up at an unusual angle and put him at risk of a stall. He had once seen a video of a Dutch F-16 pilot doing something similar with a helicopter, but the maneuver had been brief, and the thought of traveling at those speeds _that_ close to the ground made him antsy.

Ultimately, he gained altitude and turned east into the start of a loop around Italica. If nothing else, watching so many wood gliders flop around in the same airspace would give him a fun way to pass the time.

* * *

For Ellie, finding Italica had been simple. Without knowing it, she had recreated an old Earth tradition of following the railroad lines to her destination, and now her plane was floating over the bustling town below.

"They have a dirt landing strip," Myuute called, pointing to a spot on the edge of Italica, "But it's really bumpy and sometimes too muddy to take off again."

Ellie looked over her shoulder and, holding up one hand to illustrate her point said, "I'm going to go around twice, then we'll start back for Alnus."

As she started into her counterclockwise circuit, Ellie noticed the sparkling glimmer of another Efftoo circling high overhead and pointed it out to her engineer. "Why's he here?"

"Combat air patrol," Myuute said. "They watch for big dragons or other large monsters and keep them away from Japanese territory."

"Do they usually wait around Italica like this?"

Myuute looked up at the fighter jet, then asked, "Why do you think he's waiting?"

"His speed and his turn are too tight. I'm trained to patrol at sea, and turns during a big scouting circle are wide. If it's a tight turn, it means you're observing, or waiting up there for something… there!"

Ellie pointed over the right-side wing. "More MagThrees."

"They might be part of a convoy," Myuute said. "Sometimes you will get a bunch of planes like that if someone important is visiting."

"Cool! Let's go over and say hello!"

Before Myuute could argue otherwise, Ellie jerked the control stick to the right and sent the aircraft off to meet the visitors.

As they got closer, Ellie was able to make out the symbols on the wings of the aircraft. The Imperial plane had been a gold emblem on a red field, and the Japanese planes she had seen, including the one she was flying, was a red circle on any background. These planes were identifiable by two bars side by side: white and turquoise. "Which city?"

"Rondel," Myuute answered. "Maybe there's an academic forum?"

But Ellie wasn't convinced. She watched as they all dived in sequence for the city and kept her distance. "Is that normal?" She asked.

The planes answered her question for her. She saw a bunch of bright pinpoint flashes, and then a series of fireballs erupted in the city below.

* * *

" _What?_ "

"I said, the Rondel MagThrees are _bombing the city._ " Kurihama spat into his helmet mic.

As the controller was trying to make up his mind, Kumihara checked to make sure his flight camera was running and went down a mental checklist. He was armed with four radar guided missiles (infrared-guided weapons were useless against most targets in the Special Region) and about eight hundred rounds of ammunition for the gun. Even so, he had never engaged a MagThree before. His gut told him that it would be like engaging a helicopter or Wyvern, but he had missed all the action in the F-4 Phantom days, and simulators were a far cry from experiencing the real deal.

"This is ATC Alnus," The controller said. "Do not engage."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Do not engage, continue to monitor."

"What the hell?"

"This is part of an ongoing civil dispute between Rondel and Sadera, and the rules of engagement say that we aren't getting involved."

Kumihara snorted. "Again?"

"I repeat, stand by and observe."

The pilot sent his acknowledgement, then slammed a fist into the side of his compartment. _What were the higher-ups waiting for?_ During the Saderan civil war, billions of yen had been spent in a dragged-out conventional campaign, while the Americans had conducted one SpecOps Mission and ended the thing in one night. And here they were again, with the politicians dragging their feet. He glanced down at his fuel gauge… fortunately there was still enough to grant him decent loiter time.

Whatever they wanted him to observe, it needed to happen _soon_.

* * *

"Are you seeing this!?" Ellie shouted. "What's going on!?"

"Oh no," Myuute muttered. "No, no, no, no—"

The MagThree suddenly faltered and began to lose speed. "Myuute!"

The girl behind her didn't respond

"Myuute, I need thrust back!" Ellie pushed the stick forward to maintain speed. She watched as another volley of attacks fell on Italica. Below, a watchtower burst into flames as it was hit by a magic strike, while a massive ice spike went careening into the central manor.

Still not getting any response, she reached behind her, grabbed Myuute by her outstretched arm, and dragged the girl forward so that their heads were inches apart. "WAKE UP DAMN IT!" She yelled.

The magician snapped out of her stupor and Ellie felt their speed pick up again. Behind her, she heard Myuute crying, "I can't do this again! I can't do another fight! I can't!"

"We have to do something!"

"We can't—"

"I'm going to do a warning dive off the nose of their lead plane—it's how we ward off inattentive Monarchs at sea—but I need you to keep the speed UP!"

She felt, more than heard Myuute reply in the affirmative, and she pulled back on the stick to gain a bit more altitude. Thankfully, her flight engineer seemed competent enough to adjust their speed accordingly, and the wind rushing through the wards increased from a hiss to a deep rumbling. At her desired altitude, she put the plane into a turn so that she would wind up in front of the Rondel MagThrees, and then flipped the plane upside down and into a dive.

Behind her, Myuute screamed—loud enough to be heard over the air—and Ellie grit her teeth as she tried to focus on her turn. She had flown in storms before, but even then, she had never had to deal with a distraction quite like this. Nonetheless, Rondel's lead plane was a blur as they flashed by, then Ellie spun the plane right-side up again and pulled up… Too low. There were much closer to the ground than Ellie had anticipated.

"Fly now, panic later."

"Cut power!" She yelled and yanked back hard on the stick. Ellie worried for a moment that it would break off in her hand, but the airplane respond, just barely skirting the roofs of the houses below.

Ellie glanced over her shoulder. The poor girl in the back seat looked like she was about to faint. Or throw up. "We're going up again!" Ellie shouted. "Speed up!"

Myuute was fast to shake her head and start another protest, but was stopped by a loud _BANG_ as an explosion narrowly missed them. That was enough to get her to respond, and they were soon rising again.

* * *

"What the hell is Hatori doing?" Kurihama asked. "Idiot's going to get himself killed!"

He had informed Alnus ATC about the JASDF-flagged MagThree hovering over the city. Normally that would mean Hatori and Myuute were playing around with the glider again, but protocol demanded that Japanese forces were to disengage from any conflicts In Saderan airspace until instructed otherwise by command.

"1st Lt. Hatori Just checked in," the controller replied. "He is not flying the plane."

"Then who is!?"

"A trainee...they're considering recruiting her for Ichijima."

"Was she told about the ROE?"

"No one was expecting an air raid."

" _Now_ can I engage?"

"Negative."

20,000 feet in the air, Kurihama disengaged his mic and screamed into his oxygen mask. If they didn't let him get involved now, _when would they?_

* * *

"They're following us!" Myuute called. Ellie glanced over her other shoulder to see the Rondel MagThree climbing in an attempt to get into position behind her. As the glider gained on them, Ellie could barely see a figure lean over the side of the fuselage with a long, stick-like object and point it in their direction She saw a puff of smoke, and didn't hear so much as feel something narrowly miss her shoulder as it shot past.

Myuute was now in hysterics. "They're shooting too!" She cried. "We need to leave, NOW!"

For once, Ellie was completely lost in terms of what to do. Fights like this never happened between Monarchs, as bows lacked the accuracy to hit another flyer while flying, and one Monarch tackling the other was extraordinarily dangerous at best, and at worst resulted in both getting tangled and plummeting to the ground below.

Maybe Myuute was right… but at the sight of the other planes dropping explosions on the city, she couldn't turn and run. She just couldn't. Monarchs saw to the safety of the people...it was their job. It occurred to her then that if Andromache hadn't been around to keep an eye on the town after her departure, she might never have left on her journey to begin with.

And if she wanted the people of this new continent to accept her, to trust her enough to teach her the secret of the Night Triangle, then she had to do her part. She had to defend Italica.

She looked down at the stick in her hands and had a sudden burst of inspiration. "Listen," she said to her flight engineer. "When I tell you, you're going to take the controls and glide the plane in for a landing."

"What about the other MagThree? What about you!?"

"I'm going to jump onto their plane."

"WHAT!?"

But Ellie was already unbuckling her seatbelt. "I'm going to take my hunting knife, cut the lines to their control surfaces, and then fly the rest of the way down to the ground. If I can, I'll meet up with you and we'll do it again."

"You're insane!"

She stood up, stabilized herself against the fuselage, shouted, "Plane's yours!" and spread her wings.

The initial shock flipped her up into the air, somersaulting over the plane's rudder. For a moment, she was floating in the air, angled herself to catch the wing of the oncoming aircraft as she would the mast of a ship at sea, outstretched her arms, and, in a rush, grabbed down.

Ellie regretted it instantly.

She was used to grabbing on to ropes or sails during high winds, but the shock of her sudden deceleration from her MagThree to the relative acceleration of the Rondel plane yanked her Right arm around with a greater force than she was prepared for. Her right shoulder exploded with spiking, searing pain, and for an instant her world went white. A fraction of a second later, as the world returned, did she consciously realize she was screaming.

Somehow, she was on the other plane, her burning arm wrapped around one of the cross-cords holding the structure between the upper and lower main wings. Looking up, she could see the control cables to the left aileron above her head. She reached down to her side to withdraw her hunting knife, but it was no use. The shift in position put even more pressure on her damaged arm, and she collapsed back against the lower wing.

This gave her an excellent opportunity to look at the Rondel aircrew who stared back at her, mouths agape. Seconds later, the pilot turned in his seat to shout at one of the flight engineers—the one with the long stick that spat smoke—who hastily brought the stick around to point it at her.

 _They're shooting at us!_ Myuute had cried. Regardless of what the weapon was or how it worked, Ellie realized that at this distance, stabilized by the body of the aircraft, there was no way that the man could miss.

Out of time once again, she adjusted her position, jumped, and went careening into the armed flight engineer.

Since the Rondel mage was still buckled in, the only thing that went flying was the gun. The impact wasn't as bad as the first one, but it still knocked the wind out of her...and gave her enough time to react when the mage reached down and grabbed her by the throat. Her world was filled by the snarl on his face as he tried to crush her into submission.

Her hands instantly went up to the arms around her neck, but the man choking her was much too strong. Behind her, she could feel the pilot pushing at her legs, trying to knock her off the aircraft. She slid and, for a moment, she felt the hunting knife pinned to her outer thigh.

The next action was automatic instead of conscious, and it really didn't dawn on Ellie what she'd done until she felt the warm blood running down her hands as she stabbed the Rondel mage in the gut over, and over and over again. Even as she shrieked in pain, he would not let up, so Ellie's arm swung up, and the knife caught the man across the throat.

It was _then_ that the man finally released her, collapsing to the side of the airframe as his carotid artery blasted blood over the side. The second flight engineer looked up in a panic and, out of reflex, reached with both hands over his dying comrade to grab her.

Instantly, the plane lost power and the pilot cussed, adjusting the flight path to put them on a glide. The second mage moved to correct his mistake, but Ellie moved first, reaching into the compartment in front of him, yanking out the Focus Crystal, and chucking it over the side. The mage screamed and reached after her, but couldn't get past the body of the man in the second compartment. 'I'll kill you!" He screamed, raising a hand that blistered with magically-summoned fire, "I swear on the—"

He never finished, as Ellie undid the seatbelt of the middle mage and chucked him into the airstream. Unlike Ellie, he did not perform anything remotely resembling a graceful summersault. Instead, he crashed straight into the backup flight engineer, then tumbled past him for a split second before slamming into the vertical stabilizer.

The shock and weight disparity forced the tail down and the nose high. The plane rose for a second and, robbed of its propulsion and forward velocity, dropped out of the sky.

* * *

"The JASDF MagThree has engaged the enemy," Kurihama said.

"How? It's unarmed!"

"Pilot jumped out and grabbed the Rondel plane tailing them. Looked like one of those flying girls that the _Kitsashi_ had with them a few months ago."

The Controller was silent.

Kurihama took a deep breath, then continued. "You can approach this however you want, but as far as the observers on the ground are concerned, the JASDF has already intervened. _Requesting permission to engage_ , or were you waiting to see if the Italica consulate and train station get bombed first?"

More silence. As the JSDF pilot watched, he could see that the boarded Rondel plane had stalled, and was falling fast. He had to hand it to the winged girl; that was an Indiana Jones level of Stupid.

Still…

"You are cleared to engage," the Controller said. "Take care with your shots to minimize casualties on the ground."

"Roger, Hawkwind 02, engaging."

He made one last check to confirm that the nose camera was running, then reached onto his front panel and disengaged the safety on the 20mm J61A1.

* * *

Ellie didn't so much jump from the plummeting MagThree as fell out of it, and not a moment too soon. The Rondel pilot tried desperately to pull up, but he only succeeded in careening into one of Italica's towers with an unsettling _crunch_ as the aircraft crumpled around him _._

Ellie herself didn't fare much better. As she threw out her wings, the movement interfered with the nearby damaged muscles in her chest and shoulder and the pain hit her once again. Ultimately, she tumbled a few feet, tried to land on unsteady legs, and then collapsed, gasping on the roof of some store or inn. Every part of her felt hurt or sore—her arms, her wings, even her lower back and legs from the exertion of the insane stunts.

Looking up, she could see another Rondel plane turning to bare down on her. Perhaps it had seen the crash and had come to exact revenge. In a panic, she tried to pick herself up, reached out with her bad arm, and fell back onto the roof tiles and the blinding, burning sensation overtook her once more. " _No,_ " she groaned, " _No, no, please, I don't want to die, no, no no—_ "

It was if she could hear death rushing for her, a low rumbling roar like thunder that ate through her guts and bones. Ellie threw her good arm up around her head—a futile gesture—and waited for the end.

Except that, in one final moment of clarity, she realized that the thunder was not in her head. It was real—it was very, very real.

 _ **BRRRRRRRRRRRTT!**_

The sound was as if the sky was being sawed apart, and perhaps it was. The Rondel MagThree disintegrated in a mass of splinters, shards, and body chunks which, robbed of their momentum, rained down in smoldering lumps upon the quaking city.

Ellie finally fainted, the last sound she heard being the screech of a General Electric F110 Engine at full afterburner.


	9. Chapter 8: Rotation

**Chapter 8: Rotation**

 **THIRTY MINUTES AFTER THE ATTACK ON ITALICA**

 **The Kantei (Prime Minister's Office), Tokyo**

The communications channels of two planets went insane.

The moment that the last Rondel aircraft fell from the sky over Italica, a message was beamed across fiber optic cables through the Gate and into the servers at the Japanese Ministry of Defense headquarters in Shinjuku, then forwarded again to the Japanese Defense Minister's government email account.

JASDF INTERCEPTED AND SHOT DOWN RONDEL FIGHTER-BOMBERS OVER ITALICA, SR.

The note was quietly passed along to the Prime Minister who exploded, "Since when does the Special Region have Fighter-Bombers!?"

"It's an application of their MagThree technology," Defense Minister Nomura explained. "This isn't all that remarkable. It took Earth nations under ten years to go from inventing planes to using them in combat. The Special Region has the advantage of seeing F-4s as an example during the last civil war, so the idea isn't as novel to them as it was to us."

"What am I supposed to tell the Diet?"

At that moment, the door to the Prime Minister's office creaked open and a young secretary stuck her head into the room. "Sorry for interrupting," she said. "The President of the United States is waiting on Line Two."

The Prime Minister gave an aggravated sigh and leaned over his desk to hit the speaker button so that Nomura could listen in. "Hello President Mahana" he said in English.

Dirrel's successor was a firm, but soft-spoken man from Massachusetts, and had a New England accent to match that made the Prime Minister's life difficult at times. Fortunately, he was less bull-headed than Dirrel, and was supported by a less aggressive cabinet.

Or, perhaps he didn't need to be much more aggressive, considering that the Americans had already achieved most of their important geopolitical objectives with regards to the Gate...short of being given free access to Falmart. Still, discussion about the Gate was nowhere near as prominent as it was after it first appeared, and the world had mostly stopped talking about it after the Korean crisis took over the headlines. "Good morning, Mr. President."

"Good evening, Prime Minister," Mahana said. "What's this I'm hearing about air combat in the Special Region?"

The Prime Minister gripped the phone tightly. As far as he was aware, the Americans didn't have anyone in Italica, so how did they know about the battle? "Could you be more specific? I don't believe that the JSDF has released that information yet."

"We had an Osprey turned away from Italica and the pilot was told that there was an active threat in that airspace. Around the same time, we started getting reports of JASDF planes at Alnus being armed and an F-2 having its combat camera footage removed. It's easy enough to see when you have all the evidence."

"I see."

"Do you want us to send soldiers through to help?"

"No!" The response came out sounding a bit sterner than the PM had indented, so he backtracked and said. "No, thank you, Mr. President. I feel that we can handle the situation at this time."

"If you say so. By the way, we also got a report from General Kengun that a second Monarch has shown up at Alnus… our original treaty about SR biologicals is still in effect, right?"

"Of course."

"Awesome. I'll have our guys speak with your guys to make the final arrangements. Looking forward to seeing you at G20!"

The call ended then and there, and the Prime Minister was left holding the phone in his hand. Shaking his head, he placed the phone back in its receiver and asked, "What are our options?"

"The Rondel aircraft fired at us first, so technically, all options are on the table," the Defense Minister stated. "We could do nothing, or we could level their city. If you were to put the question to the Diet, I would expect that they would prefer you did the former. If we were to ask Ambassador Sugawara for the Saderan position, they would probably ask for the latter."

His constituents came first, of course… but now that the Prime Minister's constituents included Japanese on both sides of the Gate, his opponents in the Diet had easy ways to attack him, no matter how he responded. Kouhara Mizuki had been campaigning for moths to replace him in the next elections, and she would probably claim that he left Japanese citizens to die. If he authorized the JSDF to attack, she would call him a warmonger and cite the cost of the deployment to any newsman in earshot.

"Isn't there a middle route?"

The Defense Minister thought about it and said. "Enforce a no-fly zone over Japanese territory, and offer to extend that no-fly umbrella over immediate surrounding territories like Italica. Even if Rondel has invested in air combat, their World War One biplanes are no match for modern fighter jets, as the air battle over Italica has already demonstrated. By keeping to the units that are already at Alnus, our expenditure only goes up by the cost of expended jet fuel and weapons. It is the cheapest option, and it is the option that places the fewest of our citizens in harm's way."

"Excellent! Relay those instructions to General Kengun at once!"

* * *

 **FIVE HOURS AFTER THE ATTACK ON ITALICA**

 **Royal Palace, Sadera, Falmart**

The loud knocking at her bedroom door spurred Pina to scramble into a robe and shove the manga she was reading under her mattress before shouting, "Yes, yes, come in!"

A member of the imperial guard strode in, brandishing a scroll from a carrier pigeon. "My Empress, Countess Myui says that Italica is under attack."

Pina's eyes went wide at that one. A march from Rondel to Italica took nearly a week, while this attack was following the massacre of her soldiers in Rondel by just a couple of days. "Did they send their army preemptively?" She wondered aloud. "Does Myui say if the walls are holding?"

"Your eminence," the soldier replied, "The whole message reads as follows: Italica under attack by Rondel airplanes, send help. That is all."

In a moment of horror, Pina was dragged back to a memory where she stood on the walls of Italica herself as the JSDF rained flaming steel on a sea of raiders from above. She winced at the echoes of an explosion long gone and asked, "Has someone sent for Countess Tyuelli?"

As if on cue, the woman herself pushed past the soldier and asked, "Have you heard?"

"I have. I was considering sending wyverns to assist."

Sherry appeared confused for a moment, then shook her head. "Sugawara-san told me everything. The attack ended hours ago."

"And?"

"Seventeen dead, a few dozen wounded, and many buildings were damaged. The only reason that it wasn't worse was because the JASDF intervened."

 _They haven't forgotten us after all!_ In that moment, Pina felt like someone had just lifted a cart off of her. With the JSDF on their side—

"Don't celebrate yet," Sherry cautioned. "Two Japanese aircraft were involved. The one that initiated conflict was being piloted by another Monarch. The second aircraft, an Eftoo, only joined because it saw that the first was in trouble."

"I wasn't aware that the Kingdom of Tinae had finally sent representatives?"

"They haven't. The girl, Ellie Fe Agne, was operating independently, as far as her traveling companion has told the Japanese. What this means is that we still shouldn't expect much from Japan."

Pina sighed. "Now that we know about this means of attack, we ought to come up with a defensive plan. If you would summon the Generals—"

Sherry turned towards the soldier and said, "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

The royal guard bowed and departed, closing the door behind him and leaving Pina and Sherry alone.

"Pina," Sherry said. "We can't just barge into this. We should consider the political options first."

"What do you—"

"Seven years ago you told me that you had enough of bloodshed. I am not advocating for any additional peaceful overtures to Rondel, since that route has obviously failed, but we do have other options open to us. As far as Falmart is concerned, the Japanese were willing to attack Rondel with only limited provocation. If we can push the Japanese towards defeating Rondel for us, that's less blood on our hands, a speedier war, and a guarantee of victory. Or are you planning on marching on Rondel without air cover?"

Pina dropped back onto her bed. "All of these things are true, but Itami never waited for the politicians to catch up with him. If he had, the nuclear bomb would have been loosed against Bellnahgo instead of the Carenth armies. It feels wrong to wait while you handle it. I have to be doing _something!_ "

"You are doing everything that's needed of you," Sherry said with a smile, walking over and placing a hand on the Empress's shoulder. "Itami's a tactician. So are you. This needs the touch of a strategist."

"Then what do I do?"

"Nothing. Leave everything to me." Sherry gave her a deep bow, then left the room.

Pina wanted to scream. She couldn't stand doing _nothing_. The situation reminded her of the weeks Zorzal imprisoned her while Saderans were hunted and tortured by the Oprichina. Itami didn't need to wait, so what was it he did _right_ that she was failing to notice?

There was another knock at her door. "Yes?" She said.

A new guard entered. "Urgent message from Italica," he said. "The attack has apparently ended. Damage estimates are—"

The Empress slammed her hand on the bedpost. The American space machines had outraced the messenger birds again.

* * *

 **EARLY THE NEXT MORNING**

 **The Council Building, Rondel**

The simple agreement with Professor Shirai had changed Flat's entire view of the city he called home. Where once the people around him seemed uninteresting, now every glance in his direction made him paranoid. What if the person looking at him was an informant to the Council? Had the city guards started to suspect? Was that woman's smile or that man's frown meant in earnest, or were they trying to trick him?

And nowhere was this feeling worse than when he was attending to Councilman Tarinium, who was currently pacing in the atrium of the Council Building. "What a mess," he muttered. "Such, such a mess."

The topic of his aggravation was the line of smokestacks on the city bounds which had, just the night before, started to operate again. Whenever this happened, thick smoke would cloud the sky on otherwise clear nights, and the jobs of the Astronomy department became very difficult. Shirai cared less about these things, given that he had instruments which could see using an invisible "infrared" light, but for the other Astronomers in Rondel, the smokestacks were another level of frustration on top of their much weaker locally-made optical telescopes.

When Chairman Delsus finally emerged from his office, Tarinium was in front of him almost immediately. "We must talk about the smoke."

"Yes, exciting, isn't it?" The Chairman seemed almost gleeful at the mention of the smokestacks which gave Flat a great sense of unease. "It's a symbol of progress, and bound to be one of our most powerful weapons in the arsenal against the Saderans."

"What in heavens are you talking about?"

"Steam power, Tarinium!" The Chairman declared. "They finally got the engines working last night, and they are immediately being put to use as part of the war effort."

The astronomer gave him a quizzical look. "Steam power?"

"By heating water into high-pressure steam, we are able to forcefully move a piston back and forth at great speed. When applied to the same gearworks used in milling equipment, it lets us operate all kinds of tools at much greater speed than if we had left it to wind or water. Even magic can't keep up! This is the same underlying principle that the Earth armies use in the motors for their cars, tanks, and aircraft.

"I have just received word that the mission against Italica was successful," he went on. "Though we lost a handful of pilots, the principles of air bombardment were tested, and Italica sustained respectable damage. All this with fewer than a dozen aircraft. Imagine what we could do with a hundred? A thousand?"

"Do we have that many MagThrees?" Flat asked.

Delsus grinned. "And therein lies the beauty of the steam engines. Perhaps not yet, but soon… soon Rondel will have the largest airfleet of any nation in Falmart… and that includes Japan. While Japan's involvement over Italica was regrettable, all that it means is that we must engage the Saderan Army outside of the Japanese patrol space. Then it won't matter."

"And my telescopes?" Tarinium asked.

"To Hardy with your telescopes," the Chairman said. "We are trying to win a war. Outer space has no place on a battlefield."

With that, he brushed past the two astronomers. Tarinium threw up his hands, exasperated. "And so now whole subcouncils will be thrown out over this war? In all my years, I have never… do you know what the Council would have said of this ten years ago, Flat?"

"They would never have become involved in a war to begin with?"

"Exactly! Back then, it was an affront to Elange to willingly put knowledge under threat of destruction. Promise me— _please_ Flat—that you're smart enough to stay out of this stupid war."

Flat thought back to the promise to Shirai. There was no good way around it. Rather than answer the councilman's question, he asked, "Doesn't it seem strange to you?"

"What?"

"Chairman Delsus incurred the wrath of the Japanese today, and he doesn't seem bothered at all."

"So? We've seen an attitude like that in the last war."

"Yes, but Zorzal was a moron. Chairman Delsus is not. It's...suspicious. And worrying."

"As long as he engages the Saderans away from Rondel, I don't care. Come, Flat. We must find a new position for the telescopes."

But Flat was not so easily dismissive. As they left the Council Building, he glanced over his shoulder towards the Chairman's office. Delsus had a plan. Perhaps he'd had a plan from the very start, and if it was robust enough that he didn't fear the Japanese, then there was a chance that Rondel—perhaps all of Falmart—was in very serious danger.

* * *

 **MIDMORNING**

 **JSDF-Run Medical Center, Italica**

Too much happened too quickly.

When Ellie finally woke up, it was on the strangest bed she had ever seen, made of white cloth, steel, and some other material far more perfect than any bale of hay or cotton/spring mattress or hammock she'd ever experienced.

Her right arm was heavily bound up, and various parts of her wings, legs, and other parts of her body were carefully bandaged. Looking around, the room the bed was in was dimly lit, quiet, and clean. Ellie's first thought had been that this must be some physician or mage's residence, as that's where Andromache used to take her for minor injuries, but this was clearly something different.

Since she was laying on her front, she turned her head to look at her left arm. Something that looked like a white laundry clip had been clamped onto her left pointer finger, and this in turn was connected by a thin cable to some incomprehensible machine with an ever-changing picture that displayed wavering lines and letters. Strange as it was, it was better than the tube that lead from a transparent bag of clear fluid to a bandage on her arm.

Or rather, _into_ her arm.

Ellie began to scream.

A handful of Japanese men and women rushed into the room, stopping her from reaching over to pull at the tube. "It's fine!" One of the nurses shouted in the language of the region. "You're fine!"

"GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!"

"It's an IV drip, and it's safe! It's water. Water! It can't hurt you."

Ellie slowly settled down and looked from the tube to the nurses and doctors. "W-water?"

An older doctor explained, "You had a hard landing, and were bleeding in a few places. There was some internal bleeding as well. By putting you on an IV, we keep your blood vessels from collapsing until you are healed, and have regained lost blood."

Once again, Ellie found herself bewildered by Earth medicine. How could the humans of that world have possibly come to a conclusion like that? She was reminded of the lightning-box that had resurrected the man at the Alnus train station, and wondered if they had used the box on her too.

The man who explained the IV introduced himself as Professor Urushibata, and explained that he was Japan's "leading scientist on demihuman physiology."

"Where am I?" Ellie asked. "What happened? Am I going to die?"

"You are in the JSDF Hospital in Italica, and you are definitely going to live," Urushibata said, "We found you after the battle and immediately did all that we could. In addition to a few nasty lacerations, you dislocated your shoulder and strained muscles in your legs, arms, and wings. You were found unconscious, and were given chemicals to keep you asleep as we surveyed for damage and repaired what we could...but I must say that you are in one of the best hospitals on either side of the Gate. Earth technology is great for diagnostics and precision surgery, but magic has been a godsend for closing wounds and tissue repair."

He stopped for a moment and, scratching the back of his head, added, "I must admit, I have never worked on a Monarch before, and Odette-chan refused to be examined. I had to consult with the head of Avian Veterinary Medicine at Tokyo Zoo for your wings and internal chemical balances, so if anything feels uncomfortable or strange, please let us know immediately!"

Minutes later, another group consisting of Countess Myui Formal and a select handful of maids arrived by her bed. The young noble introduced herself to Ellie, and thanked her profusely for her actions "In defense of Italica."

"I barely did anything," Ellie muttered.

"That's more than my militia or guardsmen can say," the countess insisted. "I'm in direct contact with Empress Pina by Wyvern, and there's a great interest in making you the new head of the Imperial Aviation Group."

Ellie didn't want to be head of _anything_ at the moment. For that matter, she no longer wanted to fly on anything that she wasn't born with—that awful feeling of falling as the airplane stalled, and the way it burst into pieces upon colliding with the ground was cemented in her mind...as was the smell of the blood of the Rondel flight mage. "I'll think about it," she said.

Once the doctors and diplomats had left, she burst into tears. Hector had asked her before if she could kill a man, and now that she'd actually done it, she never wanted to do it again… and here were these people asking her to teach others to do the same. She didn't want to do that; that's not why she'd made the trip. She had gone because…

 _Why did you go?_ _Are a bunch of lights in the sky really important enough to make you do what you did? After a stunt like that, would the Americans even consider taking you in? Hector was right, this is all beyond you, and you have no place here. Face it, you're done._

She turned her face into the pillow, now damp from her crying, confident that it couldn't get much worse.

Except it did. From the entry to her room, came the aged, droning voice she'd never wanted to hear again.

"I did warn you, didn't I?" said Amita Ze Andromache.

Her old mentor, with her greying hair and wings, stood looming at the end of her bed. Ellie's initial awe at being found was quickly overruled by a simple fact; _she TRAINS people how to scout and navigate. Of course she could've found me._ And now, here she was, disapproving frown and all.

"I will never understand what got into that head of yours to convince you to run off like this," Andromache said. "You are needed at home. Your _place_ is at home. And to make matters worse, you ran off without telling anyone where you were going. The town has been without a Monarch for port and weather scouting during our absence. If anything, you are lucky that I was able to find you as quickly as I did.

"Have you anything to say?"

Ellie turned her face away to bury it in her pillow. _I know, I know_ , she thought. _Go away._

"Typical. I have never been handed such a selfish girl in all my years. In that sense, you got what you deserved. Once the Men in Green are done with you, we are going back the way we came. There will be consequences for this once we have returned."

She felt like she wanted to die then and there, wrapping her arms around her head as if that would keep her mentor's words out.

Of course it didn't help, as her instructor began again, "And another thing—"

"What are you _doing?_ "

Ellie knew the new voice. It was Hector. _Of course_ , she thought, _both of them at once._

But it was Andromache who responded. "Ellie is my charge. As a runaway and an imbecile, she deserves whatever punishment I see fit to dole out."

She expected sarcasm, or more of Hector's dry pessimism, but that was not what she got. "Let me make sure that I am understanding you correctly. You have barged into this healers-building and are currently badgering an injured combat veteran because you feel that you own her."

His voice as he said those last lines went increasingly colder, and Ellie lowered her arms enough to peek out at the situation. Hector was standing by the end of her bed, the burnt half of his face warped into a more garish frown than ever. Nearby, Andromache, her fists balled, her wings partially extended and her face beet-red in a way that Ellie rarely saw, was preparing her reply which, when it came, was stiff and pompous as ever. "Ellie is too young, inexperienced, and brash to travel on her own. A Monarch must prove themselves level-headed under the most strenuous circumstances, and Ellie is anything but. This is why it is imperative that she learn her lesson—"

"Listen you old hen," Hector growled, stepping closer, "This city just survived a major battle in the air because your _charge_ was present to intervene. She was handed a combat scenario that no one on this planet was ever faced with before, and not only is she the only woman or man on Falmart to take down an enemy MagThree, she influenced the Japanese to go and support her when lesser powers would have run or waited around to be saved. Not only is that level-headedness, that's _leadership_. And your gut reaction is to come in here and blast Ellie with your trash as she sits in a recovery bed? _How dare you!_ "

Ellie lay in stunned silence, not sure what she should be reacting to first: that Hector had been so adamant in his defense, or that he had actually used her name instead of "girl"?

Before either could go any further, they were stopped by a cough from the entryway. A man in an Earth military uniform was standing there, but he was very evidently not Japanese. He was taller, for one, with short brown hair and a very different facial structure. The uniform was patterned blue, save for the banner sewn to his shoulder… a pattern that Bozes had pointed out to them in Alnus just a while ago; a square of blue, and red and white stripes.

An American.

Looking back and forth between the two, he asked, in a heavily accented version of Falmart's native tongue, "Should I come back later?"

But Hector's eyes had traveled to the man's shoulder patch as well. He probably recognized it too, because he replied, coldly, "State your business."

"I'm Commander McKann of the United States Navy," he said. "I'm here to escort a Miss Ellie Agne and Hector Sava to our base."

"Now hold on a moment," Andromache said. "Ellie is going nowhere except home. She has been a very—"

"You're a Monarch, right?" The Commander's voice had a slow drawl to it that Ellie couldn't place, and wondered if it was a regional dialect.

"I am, and so is Ellie, and that's why—"

"I hear that ships can hire Monarchs out for navigation roles, right? I have someone who wants her to navigate a ship, and for that, she needs to come with me."

"But she's not ready—"

"We've got someone who can train her, if she needs it."

"I forbid it."

The American smiled. "Well that's funny," he said, approaching. "I don't remember asking your permission."

It was if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. When Hector and Andromache had confronted each other moments earlier, it looked as if they were about to come to blows. Yet, all McKann had to do was smile. It was as if he was daring her to try something and confident that the retaliation would be swift and powerful.

 _The kindness between two peers is different from the kindness of an adult to a child._ Hector had been right all along. What was a Monarch to a soldier that commanded screaming machines that could pulp an entire MagThree midflight?

Now outnumbered two to one, Andromache finally backed off with a sputter. "This is unacceptable," she said. "I'll go to whomever I need to reverse this disgrace, even the Empress of Falmart herself if I have to!"

"How nice. You go do that."

They watched Andromache go and, once sure she was out of earshot, McKann snorted. "Helicopter parent, eh?"

Neither of the two understood the term, and stared blankly back at him.

"Anyway, once the doctors say you're stable, we'll take you back to Alnus and get you on an Osprey. If nothing else, congrats! You'll both be living on easy street from here on out, Uncle Sam has everything taken care of from food and lodging to entertainment. I've got a call or two to make, so I'll be back after I talk to Urushibata."

He turned to leave and Hector called after him, "Wait!"

The Navy captain stopped. "Yeah?"

"Do you know a Robert Clayton?"

"The Ambassador? Sure! Why?"

"I'd like to meet him." Hector said. "It's… about the Godwrecker."

Which was when Ellie realized that, while she had been focusing on her goals, Hector's was now almost in reach. This Robert Clayton must have been involved in using the Godwrecker, and the old battlemage seemed intent on having his revenge.

McKann's expression did not change, nor did he really turn to look back at Hector. "We'll see," he said, and departed.


	10. Chapter 9: Takeoff

**Chapter 9: Takeoff**

 **Imperial Palace, Sadera**

Nearly eight years earlier, Sugawara Koji had triggered an interplanetary war.

The situation had been otherwise stable; Japan had negotiated a ceasefire with the Saderan Empire as the terms of reconciliation for the Ginza incident were figured out. Minor items like the return of Japanese prisoners had been dealt with ruthlessly, but ultimately without delaying or damaging the negotiation process. Similarly, a "temporary transfer of power" (read-as: _coup d'état_ ) to Zorzal El Caesar had not resulted in any unusual day-to-day changes at the Jade Palace.

Everything changed when Sherry Tyuelli, defended by elements of the Rose Guard, appeared on his doorstep. He could vividly recall the appeals from Pina's knights, the cold looks Vice Minister Shirayuri had given him over his initial denial, and Sherry's frightened cries as the Oprichina agent hauled her away. He did not recall the dash from his spot by the stained glass window to the front doors of the palace, but he vividly recalled what he said next.

" _Get your filthy hands off her!_ "

In the next five minutes, he proceeded to back up every silly oath he'd sworn to Sherry, every young romantic idea she'd suggested, anything, _anything_ to stop the cruelty of Zorzal's men.

Was it geopolitically moronic? Certainly.

Was it a ridiculous idea in general? Absolutely.

Was it the right thing to do? The news had claimed that thirty-seven children had perished in the Battle of Ginza, and Sugawara had decided that enough was enough. He wasn't going to let another child die, regardless of which side of the Gate they were from. Not if he had the capability to change things.

The hours after that were a blur—the clattering of steel on armor as the Rose Guard and Oprichina fought, the roar of Kawasaki C-1s as they rained paratroopers on Sadera, the explosions as dozens of Imperial soldiers were ripped apart by rifle grenades, and finally the rumbling as the Chinooks of the 4th Combat Unit touched down on the Jade Palace lawn. The whole time, Sherry never left his side, and clung tightly to his arm on the flight to Italica. The two had been inseparable until Emperor Molt's Abdication, at which point Sherry was finally settled enough to turn her studies back to courtliness and politics.

That was seven years ago.

The nineteen year old woman that sat on the couch across from him now looked as tired as he'd felt then. Sherry put down the latest report from General Grey Co Aldo and muttered, "Two weeks to reach Rondel?"

"For a force of forty thousand men, that's pretty impressive," Sugawara pointed out.

"Impressive, and utterly meaningless if Rondel has more planes than what the JASDF shot down over Italica."

"Japan's offer of logistics support is still open."

"Japan's initial invasion force at Alnus Hill was seven thousand men. Do you expect me to believe that you still operate five times that level of troop transportation during peacetime? You yourself said that many of the JSDF transport vehicles had either been returned to Japan or moved to your island in the south. Even if you got the Americans to help, you don't have enough helicopters to airlift forty thousand men, their supplies, and their siege equipment."

Sugawara thought about it and said, "We could help you with the Chinooks and Hueys we have available, and I don't think the Americans would begrudge you some of their Ospreys. Even if we can't move all of your forces, it's a start."

Sherry shook her head. "Chairman Delsus ought to be familiar with the chain-net tactics used at the Battle of Marias. I would be shocked if he hadn't planned for it in advance."

"Then how _can_ I help?"

"I need fighter jets. As many as you can spare."

"The Diet agrees to extend the no-fly zone to Italica, but beyond that—"

Sherry looked to the two Imperial guards by the door and said, "Leave us, and go to the end of the hall."

The guards each gave her a confused look, but ultimately relented, leaving the room empty aside from himself and Sherry. As Sugawara watched them go, he wondered what Sherry had planned now that they were alone, but the only immediately apparent change was the way her face started to droop. When she finally spoke, her voice cracked. "We are going to lose."

Sugawara raced around to the other couch and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Sherry…"

"Koji, there's no way out of this one. Rondel will destroy us from the sky, just like your fighters destroyed all those dragons." By this point, she was starting to cry; Sugawara could see the tears starting to pool in the corners of her eyes. "The Senate's watching. If the army fails here, the chance of a Parliament will fail too, and the Empire will shatter. The contacts I've made, everything we've worked for, it's going to be meaningless."

"Don't say that!" Sugawara still had vivid memories of that teary-eyed girl from years ago and reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face. "The Empire's stronger than you give it credit for."

She shook her head again. "It's not _enough_!"

"I'm sorry—"

"What does Japan want?" she pleaded. "Tell me, and I'll make it happen."

"They don't—"

"They want oil, don't they? Rare minerals? Books on magic? Tell me and I'll give it to you! I'll give you anything!"

"They don't want anything!" Sugawara could feel his will being sapped as Sherry got more and more frantic "I can't—"

"I'll…." Sherry gulped. "I'll give you myself."

Sugawara was caught off guard. Sherry hadn't said anything about that in years, and here it was again, except now… now it was enough to stop him in his tracks. "I… what?"

"I'll give you myself," Sherry asserted. "We are… we promised to get married, didn't we? I wanted to wait until after the Parliament was made, but…"

She leaned in until their faces were inches apart. Falmart women were taller than your average Japanese women, so she and Sugawara were almost eye to eye, and close enough so that he could feel the heat from her breath on his lips. He tried to push through a thought, but it felt like his brain was dropping into a bank of fog. He felt, rather than observed her fingertips tracing through the fabric of his button-down shirt. "But…" he mumbled, "…you're just a girl—"

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew that it wasn't true anymore. She had been a girl seven years ago. Now she was _nineteen_...almost twenty if the twenty-days-longer Falmart years were translated into Earth ones. Sugawara had insisted back then that their relationship would remain "completely legal," but no developed country on Earth, outside of some Middle East states, would have had a problem with what Sherry was suggesting today. The open, imploring, tear-streaked face he was looking into was the face of an adult.

And Sherry knew that. She reached up, slid Sugawara's hands up her shoulders, then down over her collarbone and past it. As she noticed his breathing pick up, she added, "Do you really believe that?"

On impulse, he shook his head.

"Give me jets," she said, now close enough that her lips brushed against his, "And once I'm Prime Minister of the new Parliament, I'll give you everything you want."

As the head advisor of the Falmart Empire slowly pushed the Japanese Ambassador onto his back, they were too focused on each other to notice much of anything else. As a result, neither of them heard the sharp intake of breath from the other side of the closed hallway door. Pina Co Lada, eyes wide and hand clamped over her mouth, stepped away from where she'd been listening for the past two minutes.

From a legal standpoint, what Sherry was planning couldn't even be counted as a coup. If Sherry could actually get the votes—and Pina knew that she could—then the most powerful position in the future Falmart government would be rightfully hers. Furthermore, if she tried to accuse them of anything that she'd heard, then not only would the Senate turn against her in favor of Sherry, Japan would too. Both countries would be selling themselves out to each other to feed her advisor's ambitions, and neither would know the difference.

If she couldn't expect help from the Senate, and she couldn't expect help from Japan, then that left one nation in Falmart that she could still turn to.

She only hoped that Ambassador Clayton would be willing to listen.

* * *

 **Above Ichijima Island, off the Southern Coast of Falmart**

The island of Ichijima had a very interesting history, most of which was composed of tales regarding a monster named The Carlax.

The Carlax was a powerful beast with long claws, thick muscles, and a tough hide. It was known for being undefeatable, and there were many stories in the Empire of tragic heroes that visited the island. Each story either ended with the hero dying in glorious combat with the monster, or retreating at the expense of most of their party.

For example, the tale of Kurin the Bold, who jumped off the boat, declared, "For my lord! For the Empire!" rushed forward with his sword, and then died.

Or Erral the Wild, who cried at the Carlax, "Illica shall be my bride, and none shall stand in my way!" charged with his axe, and then died.

Or Kozmoth of Beza, who, on seeing the beast, spat, "In the name of all the honored dead, the tyranny of The Carlax ends today!" loosed about five arrows, and then died.

But praise ultimately belongs to the victor, which in this case was USMC Pvt. DeRosa who shouted, " _Oh shit!_ " and then used his M203 grenade launcher.

The Carlax fell to the ground, dead as a doornail, half of its torso gone and with no idea what the hell just hit it.

The Japanese and Americans had jointly selected the island for a base because the Saderan government had claimed that it was uninhabited due to the monster. Figuring that defeating one monster was probably easier than relocating argumentative civilians, the US Marine Corps dealt with the monster, and the JMSDF and US Navy Seabees did most of the work developing the island. Ultimately, Ichijima (or "Island One" on American charts) became a supply hub for JMSDF naval operations in the Special Region, including ongoing actions in the Avion Sea. It also became a means for the United States and Japan to push research on magical technology, without fearing that these discoveries would be leaked to the governments of the Special Region, or spied upon by competing nations back on Earth.

So, with seven years of development, it was surprisingly built up by the time that the V-22 Osprey carrying Ellie and Hector arrived. Indeed, the first thing Ellie noticed was the variety and architecture of the buildings below. There was no stone, little apparent wood, and the buildings themselves all looked similar to each other. Just like the chain-link fence back at Alnus, it was like each barracks and Warehouse and hangar had been pumped out of a giant machine.

For Ellie herself, the flight had been terrifying. Already overcome by the trauma of her last flight, Hector had almost needed to drag her onto the helicraft, and she screamed aloud when the 'wings' of the Osprey twisted around in mid-flight to bring their giant turbines forward. Ultimately Hector had to restrain her as Commander McKann laughed and shouted, "It's fine, it's fine," over the roar of the engines. She didn't want to be fine, she wanted to be safe under the guarantee of her own wings, not another mechanical contraption.

She didn't feel much better until the Osprey had touched down on the island and the sound from the engines had died to a diminishing whine. "Well—" McKann started, but Ellie didn't stay long enough to hear the end of it. The moment the Marine copilot had the side door of the aircraft open, she rushed off the aircraft and didn't stop until she was a good thirty feet away.

Unlike at Alnus, the island airstrip was made of leveled, compacted dirt. She could see a variety of hangars around them, some large, others small, and the ones that were open displaying a combination of more American tilt-rotor aircraft, and at least one machine that looked like a Japanese F-2, but was more angular and had two rear rudders instead of one. It mattered little to her, all that Ellie cared about was that she was no longer aboard one of those flying machines.

By the Osprey, she could see Hector and McKann talking to each other. The Navy commander had his arms folded and was shaking his head, while Hector shrugged and made some additional point. Eventually, the two approached her, and McKann asked, "Are you feeling alright? I feel kind of strange saying this, but do Monarchs get airsick?"

"No, it's just—-" Ellie found that the words caught in her mouth, so she took a deep breath and said. 'It's okay. I'm fine now. What did you want to show us?"

Back on track, McKann gave a partial smile and said, "I've been asked to show you around some of the various projects before taking you to yours. We are a community out here, so if you see any projects that might help you accomplish yours, sharing is encouraged."

Eventually, a Marine Humvee arrived and they were finally on their way.

The Commander pointed out various facilities as they drove by. "Water storage, fuel depot, pier's down that way, in case you want to see any of the JMSDF or USN ships when they're around. Armory's there—no, you're not allowed inside—and that's our local ATC and comms center, over there."

Ellie looked up at the large metal structures that stretched up into the heavens, but none of these really meant anything to her.

"What exactly do you mean by Projects?" Hector asked.

"So, something you need to understand is that we don't have magic back on Earth," McKann said. "When we were told that magic existed here, our scientists—I guess you'd call them natural philosophers—were really excited to find the limits of what we could do with it all. Rather than play guessing games, we gathered Falmart's most exotic magicians and craftsmen into one place, and throw money and a little tech at them to see what they do with it. The coolest one recently was a project where we uploaded a thousand hours of magical mind reading taken here to a neural network back in the states. I heard there's a group at Harvard that says they fed all the data into a machine learning algorithm and can now scan images out of a person's memories using that database and an fMRI machine. Blurry black-and-white images, mind you, but still…"

Hector nodded as if he understood all of that, but it was clear to Ellie that McKann had lost him somewhere between "uploaded" and "neural network."

"How did all these buildings get here?" Hector asked. "I imagine that this must have been a difficult project."

"The logistics were a pain, sure, but everything you see here was constructed by Japan and the US over the course of about two years," McKann explained. "The earliest elements were hauled over by helicopter, but most of it came over by transport ship. The biggest bottleneck has been Gating everything over here from Earth."

"I thought the Gate was at Alnus. How do you move the ships over land?"

"You're right, which is why we don't use the Gate at Alnus. Years and years ago, Hardy invited Itami Youji and his crew to Belnahgo for a conversation about Gates. It was a big deal at the time, and if it weren't for that conversation, the US wouldn't be in the Special Region today. One part of the discussion that we didn't learn about until later was that the Goddess Hardy had provided Japan with a way to manipulate Gates. Specifically, she had assigned the power to a single person. You've heard of Lelei La Leleina, right?"

To Ellie, not a Flamart native, the name meant nothing, but to Hector, who had spent years living in an Imperial colony, the name Lelei was instantly familiar. "Of course!" He said. "The one who slew the Flame Dragon, and who forced back the Magma Colossus at the Second Battle of Alnus? She's here?"

"Indeed she is! Once every three months she opens up a temporary Gate to Tokyo bay, and that's when we get our fuel, supplies, the occasional combat ship… all the fun stuff. Former President Dirrel wanted to see if we could jam an aircraft carrier through one, but it's apparently really hard for Lelei to make large Gates, so we've been restricted to supply ships, subs, and the occasional destroyer or LCS. She spends the rest of her time trying to reconcile baseline arcane studies with our understanding of quantum mechanics. We're hoping that it will give us a better idea of how to control magic ourselves."

They were whisked into one of the prefabricated buildings, and Ellie suddenly found herself awash in a sea of books. Hundreds and hundreds of them...more than she had ever seen in once place and at one time. Half were ones bound in familiar leather, and looked like they had been purchased at a normal bookseller. The other half had a glossy sheen and were printed with the same mechanical precision that came out of anything from Earth. The latter had confusing titles, mostly because their names were directly translated from the original Earth phonetics. Out of curiosity, Ellie picked up a quaint-sounding tome titled _The First Three Minutes_ by Steven Weinberg, and, on opening to a point halfway through, was assaulted by a pile of math equations and terminology that made her nauseous just to look at. The book was returned to the shelf immediately.

Lelei herself was seated in front of what, at first glance looked to Ellie much like the keyboard device that she'd seen at the station in Italica. This contrasted greatly with her traditional robes and mage staff that leaned against the side of the table. She looked up as they approached, her blue hair and aquamarine eyes making her feel at once cold and severe. "Yes?" She said, anticipating the interruption.

Commander McKann introduced them, and were met with a simple, "Oh," before the mage turned back to her machine.

"What are you working on?" Hector asked, in an attempt at politeness.

Lelei turned the machine around to face them, and they were faced with a moving picture of an Earth man giving an extended lecture in English. Unsure what was going on, Hector asked, "Is it interesting?"

"Feynman- _hakase_ is an interesting lecturer," Lelei acknowledged, "But he is whimsical. It is hard to pinpoint the natural philosophy sometimes. Hawking- _hakase_ was much more direct, even if his voice was strange."

She stopped there, and it clearly hadn't occurred to Hector that the woman would be so hard to talk with, as he clearly was wracking his brain for something to do talk about. Ellie, far less interested, looked around and noticed a second woman at one of the other tables. This one, a cat-demihuman with short, black hair had looked up from a book and was watching the conversation. Eventually her eyes fixed on Ellie, or, more precisely, her wings. Ellie, noticing what was going on, smiled and extended her left wing slightly so the demi could get a better look.

"Well, thank you for your time," Hector said, and followed the Commander towards the exit. Ellie gave the woman a casual wave and followed.

As they got back in the Humvee, Hector commented, "I never expected her to be so...dry?"

McKann laughed. "That's Lelei for you. The Japanese say she's always like that, but I think it's because we don't let her go running around with Itami anymore… anyway, if you want someone interesting to talk to, we have plenty of others."

"There were several rumors about the Apostles… are they here, by any chance?"

The Commander seemed to think about it for a moment. "The majority of the Gods ordered their Apostles into hiding, but we have two on the island. Rory Mercury is under Japanese observation but normally comes and goes as she pleases. Giselle is being held due to a neutralization order following her role in the Second Battle of Alnus Hill."

Hector gave him an odd look. "You plan to kill Giselle? Surely you know that this is impossible, since an Apostle can recover all bodily damage—"

"I said _neutralized_ , not killed… come to think of it, it would probably be better just to show you."

As their Humvee started to pull away, Ellie glanced back out the side window and noticed the door to the library open and the woman who had been staring at her before emerge. Before Ellie could see what would happen next, the library was lost from sight.

Their drive took them to another building, this time under heavy guard. McKann took them through a number of doors with strange locks that beeped and buzzed, before they finally stood in a lavish room. Laying on a particularly comfortably-looking couch was Giselle herself, her bright blue skin contrasting with her skimpy white robe. To Ellie, who had never met an Apostle before, the initial experience was terrifying. Was there a proper procedure to follow? She had never prayed at a shrine to Hardy, and worried if there would be some punishment for not taking the time to learn the customs.

"Hey, Giselle!" McKann called out.

The Apostle grunted, but otherwise didn't move. It was at that point that Ellie noticed her staring at a box on the other side of the room. Much like the display board in Alnus, this one had moving pictures on the side facing them, and voices in Earth languages called from small boxes mounted nearby.

"Giselle!"

"Quiet, human. I must know if Subaru succeeds in saving Rem this time."

Ellie looked back to the box and up to the Navy Commander. "Who?"

The Commander shrugged. " _Giselle_ , we have some guests who wish to talk."

"They may wait until I have finished my program."

"Last time you said that, was with… what the hell was that show called?"

"Legend of the Galactic Heroes."

"Yeah, we were waiting for days."

But Giselle ignored the comment, clearly fully immersed in the program, and it was clear that they would be unlikely to gain her attention again.

After being guided out of the room, Hector finally said, "I don't understand. What exactly did you _do_ to her?"

"We needed a way to neutralize Giselle without killing her," McKann explained. "She's still a useful source of information, but she's lived a life of combat, and we needed a way to keep her docile. The most effective method proved surprisingly cheap. We purchased her accounts for Netflix and Crunchyroll, got reserved shows buffered based on her selections, and slowly made her more interested in watching shows than doing much of anything else. She did the rest on her own."

The Navy Commander shook his head and added, "There's a saying in our world, 'TV rots your brain.' After having seen the effects of seven years' worth of TV-binging, I can confirm that the old saying is true."

"Perhaps I would be better off talking to Rory. We have some things to discuss."

As they exited the building and were about to reenter the Humvee, Ellie was stopped by a loud, "Psst!"

Glancing over her shoulder, she was surprised to see that the woman from the library was waiting for them. She pointed her finger at Ellie, and curled it in a signal to come closer. Before Ellie could protest, McKann seemed to notice their visitor, sent her a grin and a nod, then drew Hector away, explaining, "I'll introduce you later."

Once the men were gone, the woman approached and said, "So you're the Monarch everyone's been talking about! The one who did the rolling-dive maneuver in the MagThree over Italica?"

Ellie nodded. "That was about the only thing I did right during that battle, and—"

"How did you know it would work?"

She tried to shrug, but winced at the pain in her still-recovering shoulder. "It works with me and my real wings, so I didn't see why it wouldn't work with a set of fake wooden wings."

The woman smiled. "That sounds about right. I wonder… cold you open up your wings for me? Odette wouldn't let me take a close look when CPO Tokushima brought her around last time."

It seemed like everyone was obsessed with her wings these days, so Ellie sighed and slowly extended them. The woman, in turn, approached Ellie's left wing, pointed, and traced a finger all the way down to her primary feathers. It was a curious experience—normally when people asked to look at her wings, they would marvel at their size and shape and then she would put them away, but this woman… it was as if she was actively looking for something.

"Question," she said. "How do you adjust your pitch midflight?"

"With my legs?"

"I don't think your legs are thick enough to change the airflow. Normal birds have wide tails that act as both an elevator and horizontal stabilizer… but Monarchs don't, so there must be another trick to it."

Ellie thought over it and said, "There hasn't been a lot of study into it. The last theory I heard was that Monarchs passively control a magic ward by their legs during flight… they say that some dragons work the same way."

The woman smacked her head. "Duh! Of course! I'm so used to thinking on Earth terms that I keep forgetting about magic as a control surface."

Curiosity piqued, Ellie finally asked, "Who are you? Are you part of an Earth project?"

"I'm—" she began, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her face. "Let me show you."

The woman took Ellie by the hand and led her back in the direction of the helipads and towards a large building. She invited Ellie inside, and for a moment, they were enveloped by the darkness of the cavernous space. She heard a faint _click_ , and for a moment Ellie was left blinded by the bright overhead lights.

When her vision cleared, Ellie found herself looking at what she thought was, at first, a pair of Japanese F-2s, but on closer inspection, nothing could be further than the truth. The pair of aircraft before her lacked the perfect aerodynamic bends and curves of Earth aircraft, and the metal paneling was far from seamless. The wings were not wide like a MagThree, but thin and backswept. Where Earth planes were fairly uniform in color, these vehicles had glittering bellies of alternating red and blue. Most importantly of all, the aircraft lacked the distinctive marks of other nations; the Japanese red circle was absent, as was the American white star on a navy-blue circle, and the Rondel white and turquoise bars. Rather, it was the red dragon behind the gold cross, the symbol of the Saderan Empire, and the printed words _Imperial Aviation Group_.

The woman circled around Ellie. "Imagine flying faster than thunder, further than a dragon, and so high that the horizon starts to curve away beneath you. _That's_ my project, to push the absolute bounds of what is possible with Falmart's magic and technology, and demonstrate that the people of our world are every bit as capable as the scientists from Earth.

"I am Greta La Sareteian, and these," she swept a hand out towards the vehicles, "these are my _spaceships_."

* * *

 **Author's note**

There are three reasons that I made _Sky Full of Thunder_ take place seven years in the future. The first was to give Greta enough time to complete her prototypes. The second was to give Rondel and Sadera enough time to recover from the last war to field significant armies. The third was so that I could make the Sugawara-Sherry power play while minimizing how creepy the circumstances are.

In the LN, Yannai paints Sherry as a bit of a schemer, but the number of diplomacy victories she was accomplishing at age 12 or 13 were often listed as a product of shocking Japanese diplomats into underestimating her because of her age. That kind of trick only works once, which meant that she needed to be capable of all the tricks in Falmart's diplomatic culture if she wanted to accomplish the goals I set out for her in this story. As we saw with Bozes in Italica, and with Tyuule throughout the original series, seduction is a valid political tool in the Special Region. Of course, she would need to be older to use that as a weapon, so the seven year timeskip was necessary. I don't care what Japan thinks, intimacy in my writing, when it occurs, will occur between consenting _adults_. Yannai seems to agree, and he includes his own time skips at the end of Gate and the start of Weigh Anchor which specifically mention an older Sherry in hopes of dispelling the awkward situation between Sugawara and her.

And if the scene made you uncomfortable anyway, don't worry. There aren't any others like it in this story.


	11. Chapter 10: Gear Up

**Chapter 10: Gear Up**

 **Ichijima**

Ellie blinked, once, twice, trying to process what she'd just heard. "You're Greta," she said.

"Yes."

" _The_ Greta."

"That's right."

Ellie looked back to the two vessels one more time, and asked, "What's a 'spaceship'?"

Greta laughed. "Sorry, sorry, got carried away there. I forgot that you're not from Falmart, so you probably don't know, because the news never got to you. So let's start with the obvious question; what's beyond the sky?"

"Stars, I guess?"

"Good answer. Now, what's between here and the stars?"

"The moon?"

"And between us and the moon?"

Ellie started to say 'air,' but as her lips parted to say the word, her gut stopped her, and she thought back about her own attempts to get up to the Night Triangle. The higher she went, the more she had to beat her wings, and the harder it became to breathe. When she dropped back down, she'd feel a pressure on the inside of her ears...and sometimes inside her face if she was recovering from illness. Was it because there was less air the higher one went?

So if there _was_ less air up there, and even less still the higher one went, then the stuff between the moon and the stars would be…

"Nothing," Ellie concluded. "Above the air there's nothing."

"Exactly," Greta said with a grin. "In Earth terms, that 'nothing' is called space, and there's a lot of it between us and the moon, and even more between the moon and the stars."

"So, when you say it's a space-ship," Ellie concluded, "it's a ship designed to fly above the air and into the Nothing?"

"Exactly!"

So there it was. She had wanted to know how to reach the place where the Night Triangle was, and there it sat, right in front of her. "How?" She asked.

Greta waved her over to one of the plane-like fliers. Up close, it seemed larger than it had looked from the edge of the hangar. "So with a normal plane, like a MagThree or an Efftoo, the vehicle takes air from out in front of it and pushes it behind it at a high speed. The higher you go, the harder it becomes to push the air. So you have two choices; you can either find a way to push little bits of air even faster, or you need to carry your own air with you. My spaceships do both."

She pointed to a set of funnel-like holes towards the front of each wing. "The air goes in here, and then the magic happens, both figuratively and literally. In a MagThree, you only have one magic ward pushing the air. My new design stacks wards, one behind the other, so as the air goes through each new ward, it goes even faster! I had a chance to see the Japanese open up the side of one of their fighter planes, and that's how jet engines seem to work—lots of stacked pieces designed to help speed up the air...except mine is faster, because the air goes straight through instead of bumping into compressors and turbines. The Americans call my kind of design a ramjet, and they say that it's very hard for them to use on Earth."

She seemed absolutely giddy at this last point, and Ellie thought she could understand why. So far, everything from Earth seemed to be leagues more advanced in utility and capability than its Falmart counterpart, but to claim that the Americans were impressed… that _was_ an accomplishment.

"But what about when you're high enough that the air runs out?" Ellie asked.

"That's the tricky part." Greta said. "We carry air aboard the airplane, forced into a steel bottle by magic and held shut by a valve. When you hit the edge of the atmosphere, the magician stops trying to take air in through the air intakes, lets air out of the bottle… and explodes it."

Ellie was following along calmly and simply until they hit the last two words, at which point she stopped and did a double-take. "Wait, what?"

"So once you're above the thicker air, you need a way to keep up your speed. The easiest way is to take air that you're already carrying, explode it, and ride the shock energy from that. When Earth countries do it, they combine a starting fuel like kerosene or hydrogen with liquid oxygen… you don't need to know what those words mean, just know that when you put them together and light a spark, they tend to want to explode. Since we don't have the technology to make an engine that controls the explosion, and we don't have a safe way to make or store liquid oxygen, we found a way to rig Lelei La Leleina's research into multi-layered explosion spells into something that works the same way with stored air."

The end result was hard for her to picture. Despite her best effort, Ellie could feel the incredulity leaking onto her face.

"I know what you're thinking," Greta said, seemingly not bothered, "Riding into space on an explosion sounds ridiculous, but if I hadn't already done it myself on an American rocket, I wouldn't have been willing to consider it for these ships. I've had a chance to test it up at 190-thousand feet so far, and it's a bumpy ride, but it does work."

"How far is a foot?"

Greta showed her. "It's a good start, but it's not space. The official start for that is up at 330-thousand feet."

"It's amazing that you can go as high as you've gone," Ellie admitted. "But what if you want to change the way you're pointing? The… what were the names, Rudder? Elevator? They won't work if there's no air."

Greta pointed back to the front of the plane. "More compressed air nozzles in the nose, which can be controlled by the pilot. Their force is not as strong as the engines in the back, but it is enough to reorient the spacecraft. The proper name for this is Reaction Control System."

"It sounds complicated."

"It's really not! Here, let me show you the cockpit."

This time they passed one of the landing gear back to the edge of the spacecraft. "Wait here, I'll get a ladder," Greta said, and ran off.

As Ellie watched her go, she shook her head. Never in her life had she seen someone so wrapped up in a project. She had heard stories of sages and other learned men getting deep into books or knowledge quests for days on end, but to actually witness such an obsession put Ellie slightly on edge. Was this woman fully sane? What would her reaction be to Ellie's newfound aversion to flying in aircraft?

Greta returned trailing a ladder and frame on wheels. After pulling it up next to the craft, Greta practically sprang up the stairs and bade Ellie to follow.

From the top of the ladder, Ellie could see down into the control compartment of the spacecraft. Unlike a MagThree, it was completely enclosed, and was accessed by a hatch that opened inward.

The insides were also significantly more cramped than a MagThree, and only had room for a crew of two. From here, Greta pointed to and explained the controls for the RCS system, but Ellie wasn't paying much attention. She was looking forward towards the nose of the spacecraft. It lacked the big windows like the Osprey that had brought her to the island, or even the shining bubble-like canopy of the F-2. Instead of window panes, this aircraft had a bunch of small circles, like portholes, dotting the front. The reason for this was obvious—Falmart simply didn't have the technology to male large, perfect glass panes designed for exploring places beyond the sky, so these smaller blocks of thick glass would have to do.

Anyone flying this thing would be doing it half-blind.

"Oh, I see you noticed," Greta said.

"Hmm?"

Greta pointed to a box towards the front of the vehicle that was decidedly not from their world. Emblazoned on the side, two hyphenated words, and a picture of some small, black and white creature. On top of the box was a handful of numbered dials. "This is from our Earth sponsor, Lockheed-Martin," Greta explained. "They give us funds that we can use for buying materials in Falmart, and in exchange we give them flight information that's recorded by that box. The Americans are very interested in magic-based propulsion, but are limited in how much they can do at home because the best magic experts are all here, on this island."

Ellie looked back at the rest of the aircraft again. With this much metal, she had thought that the metal must have come from Earth, but what Greta just said contradicted that. "But the rest of this was created here?" She asked.

"Of course!" Greta said. "And while blacksmithing is nowhere near as good as Earth metalworking, we found a few clever cheats that let us pass some major hurdles. For example, the metal you're standing on?"

Ellie nodded, but then, taking a closer look at it, noticed an odd sort of glow to it. "Steel?"

"It's actually _elven_ steel," Greta explained. "A combination of material choices and enchantment gives us something that's tough, but really light. The Americans and Japanese use a special metal called Titanium in their spaceships, but refused to tell me or my coworkers the secret of how to refine it. Compare to the metal bottles holding the high-pressure air—those are dwarven-made. A bit heavier, but much more rugged. And then there's my favorite example...spacecraft returning from space require a shield against air that heats up as they push through it at high speeds. This is called a "Thermal Protection System. On American spacecraft, they use special materials that require chemicals that are still far, far beyond what our alchemists have been able to puzzle out, but we found a different way. Take another look at the belly of the spacecraft."

Ellie descended to the floor of the hangar once more and looked up at the bottom of the spacecraft again. From a distance, she had assumed that the bottom of each was red or blue because they had been painted that way, but a closer inspection revealed the truth.

"Are those...scales?"

"They sure are!" Greta joined her on the ground. "One set was taken from the hide of the fire dragon Itami slew in the Tuba Mountains, and the other was from the Ice Dragon that Kamikoda shot down over Alnus. While they won't protect you from canon fire, giant dragon scales have great shock resistance, and are designed to resist the air friction of the beast forcing itself through the air at high speeds. It probably wouldn't be enough protection for an orbital reentry, but for a suborbital reentry, at a fraction of the speed of an orbital one, it should suit us just fine."

So the rumors were true. The Earth people were capable of taking down giant beasts. She wondered if Greta had Armored Whale pieces hidden somewhere in her spacecraft too.

"And the best part," Greta said, with the biggest grin of all. "The Japanese recommended you to pilot it!"

Ellie's reply was immediate. "No."

A flash of panic passed over Greta's face before she calmed herself and repeated, "No?"

"I, uh, had a bad experience with the last plane I flew, and the American bending-wing Osprey… I'll help you however I can, but I can't fly your plane."

Ellie thought that Greta would be angry with her. When she gave similar excuses to Andromache, her mentor usually was, but that wasn't how Greta responded. Instead, the woman stepped back over to her aircraft and placed a hand on the landing gear. This wasn't a wheel like the ones on the bottom of the MagThree, but an enormous skid on a hinge that looked like it could be folded up against the airframe. She looked up at it, at its varying complexities and careful, if crude design, and opened her mouth to speak. When she did, her voice wavered slightly. "But you can help me with flight dynamics, right? Recovering from unstable flight and stunt flying?"

"I can do that."

Greta's mood improved, perhaps a little too quickly. "Good!" she said. "That's—that's good! I can work with that! You wait there while I grab my flight profile charts, and we can start talking today!"

As Ellie watched her dash to the other side of the hangar, she couldn't help but feel like something was off about Greta's whole response. _I expected her to be angry_ , she thought. _She should have been angry, but she wasn't. She's…_

At that moment, she felt a cold chill down her back, and noticed that the hangar seemed to darken a little, like the light from the door was being blocked.

Ellie glanced over her shoulder. There, in the doorway, she spotted a young girl in a dark black and red dress, leaning against a weapon easily twice her size. She had been watching Greta, but as she noticed Ellie's attention on her, the girl's lips curled into a sinister smile.

It took a moment for Ellie to figure out who she was staring at, but ultimately she remembered. Giselle was one of two Apostles on the island. Therefore, this…

It dawned on her what that smile meant.

"Wait!" Ellie called out to her. "Why are you here? What do you want with me? What do you want with Greta?"

The girl laughed, a cold, cruel chuckle, and stepped away from the doorway. Ellie ran after her, but by the time that she reached the doorway and looked around, Rory Mercury was gone.

* * *

 **The Council Building, Rondel**

Years ago, Flat had posed Itami with a difficult question. "If elves don't exist on Earth, how could people from Earth have possibly known what elves were before the arrival of the Gate?"

In response, Itami had provided him with a wide selection of book titles, in English and Japanese, that made up the core of Earth-elf lore (high fantasy, apparently, was unrealistic enough that the halt on Earth information allowed a few key titles to go through). While much of the depictions of elves written by Tolkien, Paolini, and Gygax/Ameson were surprisingly on point, there were a number of ideas that were not.

The top incorrect generalization was that Elves were good at silent motion and effective spying. While this may have been true for elves living out in nature, for Flat, who had spent most of his life in a city, it was patently false. Arpeggio had often joked after that about how much of a klutz he was, "always dropping things, some elf you are…" or would sneak up on him for her own amusement.

Therefore, Flat was painfully aware of his own deficiencies as he slipped up the servants' stairs and ducked into the office of his department head. Tarinium was out, which was good, and it allowed him to open the door by a thin crack—just enough to see out into the hall and in the direction of Chairman Delsus' office.

This particular occasion was special, as the Chairman's secretary had informed Flat that a block of time had been reserved, and that no visitors or callers were to be permitted. For Delsus, as the leader of a country at war, this seemed highly suspicious, and Flat hoped that whatever it was, it would be enough to help the Japanese end the war.

No one had gone in or out of the office for some time, so when Flat saw one of the Rondel Guardsmen coming up the hallway, followed by a second figure, he opened the door a hair further, just enough to get a better view into the gloomy hallway.

The second person was Doctor Nguyen.

Flat's mind exploded with questions. What could the Earth doctor possibly want from the Chairman? Alternately, with Saderan forces still over a week away, what did Delsus gain by inviting him over now?

The guard admitted Nguyen into the office, then, apparently on order, retreated back down the corridor. Once he was gone, Flat slipped out of Tarinium's office and moved across the hall, so that he was almost next to the door.

Inside, the two were just finishing up pleasantries. "...must try one of these Durian fruits at some point," Delsus concluded. "And now to business, you said that Japan operated this scrying device… radar you called it?"

Flat's eyes widened. He knew that Nguyen was from neither Japan nor America. Was his country meaning to form an alliance with Rondel?

"Scrying is an interesting way of putting it," Nguyen explained. "It's… a machine that uses an energy wave to find the position of objects in the air. You know how light from the sun can be reflected off of a mirror? This form of energy reflects off of airplanes, helicopters, flocks of birds… anything big enough, really, and then to a machine that shows you where the flying object is. Part of the reason why your MagThrees were spotted and destroyed at Italica was because Japan was able to spot them using radar arrays at their airstrip and aboard their F-2 fighter plane. As long as the Japanese have this device, your planes stand no chance."

A pause, then Delsus replied, "So these energy waves… they can be deflected?"

"In theory. The Americans have airplanes built with special materials that either absorb radar energy or bounce it away in a direction other than the enemy radar receiver, but I'm a doctor, I don't know how to build those. I _do_ know that light is an electromagnetic wave, and if your magicians can manipulate light, then they should be either to deflect or jam radar."

The discussion was insane, and Flat wanted to run back to Shirai then and there to tell him the news. A means of defeating Japanese targeting systems was being leaked to Rondel? This had to be stopped!

Yet, he did not move, for one thing still bothered him. Fortunately, Delsus voiced Flat's thoughts aloud. "And in exchange, your demands haven't changed?"

"My demands are the same," Nguyen said. "I know you're in contact with him and I want to ask him questions."

The pause was longer this time. "Contact is one thing, but to run a channel is… draining."

"Can someone else do it?"

"No… not in Rondel, at least. You would need to travel to Auxthulpeka, thousands of miles from here. Just a moment."

Flat heard a mumbling, and the more carefully he focused, the rhythm of an incantation finally resolved itself.

He began to notice a subtle change in the air, almost a kind of buzz that reverberated in his chest and guts. It wasn't his own nervousness—no, that was cold. This was hot, like the engine of an Earth machine—like _anger_.

And then, a voice. At first, Flat thought that it was the Chairman's but it was altered in pitch. _Channeling_ , he had said. Was it a spirit of some kind? "Speak, human," it said.

"I heard that you seek vengeance against the Americans and Japanese," Nguyen said. "I want in."

The response was cold, cruel laughter. "Your nation sent you with an offer?"

Nguyen snorted. "I don't speak for the Vietnamese National Assembly, the Party, or President Hoang. They're content to bend over for the Americans and Chinese, whichever is convenient on a given day. No, I'm speaking for myself."

"Hmmm…" Flat waited, his heart in his throat, as the voice continued, "The owner of this body came to me because their cousin was shamed by an American scientist and then executed. Why are _you_ here?"

"I became a doctor because I saw the effects of the American and Chinese wars on my country, and thought that I could do something to help people, but years of touring Africa, the Middle East, and now here… it has made it very clear that self-destruction seems to be an ingrained part of the human experience. The only way to save everyone, I am convinced, is to render that destruction impossible."

"If such a thing is impossible, why would you be so foolish as to waste my time with it?"

"It can't be removed," Nguyen said. "But it can be rendered infeasible. Countries prevented major wars in the past through nuclear threats, but with the proliferation of nuclear weapons and rocket technology, those threats are no longer enough. The only way to prevent mass slaughter in the future is to render humans so durable to destruction so that warfare becomes meaningless. Such a method exists here in the Special Region, and the only people who know how it works are beings like you.

"What do I want?" Nguyen asked. "I want you to tell me the secret of Apostle regeneration, and how it ties to ascension to godhood. Isn't that your area of expertise, Palapon?"

Flat's jaw dropped. _Palapon, Falmart's god of Revenge, was behind all of this? Fighting against Rondel was one thing, but an actual god? The Saderans stood no chance!_

Harsher still, the American threat from seven years ago resurfaced in his head. _Interfere with the affairs of humanity again, and we will burn you—_

"But first," Palapon said, "Shouldn't you do something about that obnoxious elf listening outside?"

He needed no further cue. Flat ran for his life.


	12. Chapter 11: Ascent

**Chapter 11: Ascent**

 **The Jade Palace, Sadera**

Robert Clayton was halfway through an early evening coffee when the door to his office nearly burst from its hinges. A United States Marine, clad in combat gear, approached his desk while two others took up places by the door.

"Sir, we need to go," the Sergeant before him said. " _Now._ "

Clayton knew better than to delay and, tucking his laptop under one arm, followed the Marines out into the hall. Once they were on their way, Clayton asked, "What's the threat?"

The Sergeant thought about it for a moment, then replied. "Six-seven-two, sir."

The NSA had been fast to come up with this particular code, because most of it was garbage. If the number was an odd number, then it meant human or demihuman combatants. Even numbers were for the reason why the code had developed in the first place—to prevent an all-seeing, all-hearing enemy from listening in.

The Gods of Falmart were making a move.

Clayton felt a gnawing at his gut that he had last felt seven years ago, as he walked Dirrel through proper usage of the Nuclear Football. If the analysis was correct, then he was in very serious danger.

Outside, a V-22 Osprey had already powered up and the LEDs at the end of each rotor blade produced a pair of glowing halos over the vehicle against the dim, early-evening sky. This particular helicraft was his personal transport between Sadera, Alnus, and Ichijima, and was always ready to be airborne at a moment's notice. As he went to board the helicraft, he heard the barest bit of a shout over the rotors and turned to see Empress Pina Co Lada, alone, dashing towards him.

The Marines raised their weapons in warning, but Clayton ignored them, rushed past, and met Pina partway.

"Bad timing, your highness!" he shouted over the rotors. "I need to go!"

"But—!"

"Whatever it is, I'll deal with it when I get back!" he shouted, turned on his heel, and jogged back toward the Osprey. As he did, he thought he heard her shout something that sounded like "Sherry" but the message was lost in the roar of the rotors. The doors were closed, and they were soon airborne.

Once they were up in the air, the Marines aboard began opening the valves on a set of pressurized air tanks bolted to the roof of the cabin. These were filled with Earth air, and were designed to create a positive-pressure environment… hopefully to push any Falmart particles out of the aircraft. It was not a surefire way of clearing all the SR-Phizons from the Osprey, but Giselle and Rory had each independently confirmed that it was harder for their gods to hear them when they were in an environment like this, since there were fewer particles to pick up and relay the conversation, and the vibration of the aircraft made it harder to hear things through the dirt they tracked in on their shoes..

Of course, the best way to avoid being heard by the Gods was to return to Earth, which is why the Osprey was currently bound for Alnus. That said, the planners at STRATCOM that wrote the playbook for this scenario had assumed that the Gods' attack was in progress, which is why five Hardened Mobile Launchers and one F-35B from Ichijima moved into firing position whenever this Osprey was in flight. Three of these were nuclear-armed, and all of them were on orders to launch at Clayton's request, on Presidential command from the far side of the Gate if Clayton were to be neutralized (or made it safely to Tokyo), or thirty minutes after both Clayton's incapacitation, and the two carrier signals from Yokosuka being lost (indicating that the Gate and its network bundle to Earth had been destroyed).

With the nuclear axe in place and ready to swing at the Gods at a moment's notice, Clayton was finally told about the situation.

* * *

 **Ichijima Island**

Ellie had grown up on sea air, either wafting in from the coast or surrounding her on ships. Therefore, the beach at sunset was comforting, with the light salty scent and the thrum of the waves in the background. It reminded her of home.

Yet, any nostalgia that Ellie had for the term was washed away by Andromache's ire. _Where was she now?_ Had she gone to the Saderan government, as she'd threatened, or had she flown home? Regardless, Ellie didn't want to go back there.

For that matter, she didn't want to go back to Italica either, nor Alnus with its busy people and strange machines and its airstrip. This island wasn't much better—Greta's brief look of despair was still fixed in her mind, and she had left her quarters for the beach in hopes of clearing her head.

In the dimming light, she could see the first stars starting to appear, and as she watched, the Night Triangle crossed the horizon on its journey through Space. If not for it, she wouldn't have been in this predicament in the first place. She heaved a sigh, picked up a clump of sand and heaved it at the orbiting objects. The sand-clod didn't even get far—it disintegrated inches from her hand as it was picked up by the sea breeze.

As she stood there, in contemplation, she realized that she could hear a voice over the light wind. She turned around, and in the sparse remaining light, she saw a figure kneeling on the beach.

As she approached, she could see that the figure's hands were pressed together, and the words of a prayer floated over to her.

" _...my mind to those who wish to teach, and teach me ways to grow—_ "

Greta looked up and, noticing Ellie nearby, waved her over.

"It's a nice night," she said, once Ellie was in earshot. "It reminds me of Cape Canaveral when it gets like this. I wish you could've seen it, Ellie. We have a handful of hangars, but the Americans have buildings the size of mountains, all to fling objects up into space."

It was also probably a no-fly zone, Ellie reasoned. Even if her wings weren't sore, the Americans had insisted that she stay on the ground while staying on Ichijima unless she asked permission from the base's flight controllers. "We had a wild wyvern try to sneak into our airspace before," McKann had said. "Once the C-RAM was done with him, there wasn't much left to find."

Ellie had no idea what C-RAM was, and had no desire to find out. There were so many strange things on this island that defied simple explanation, the most recent being another Earth airplane, not an Eftoo but a strange American one, that seemed to ascend and descend out of the sky like a spider on a string, and did so without the giant whirling wings of the Osprey. "It's called an EffThirtyFive," Greta had said. "Kamikoda-san said that he wanted to fly one someday, but that the EffTwentyTwo was better. I wonder what he's flying now?"

In the present, Greta was looking up at the sky. As Ellie followed her gaze, she saw that the woman was also looking towards the Night Triangle. "I've always wondered," Ellie said, "The Triangle, what is it, exactly?"

Greta thought about it and said, "The NROL-SR Constellation is a group of three machines—automatons—think of it like a grain mill. It's designed to do a long, hard, boring job on its own with only a few people to look after it. They fly in a ring around the planet that passes over both poles of rotation, and this lets them look down at every part of the planet every two days or so."

"A ring… but I've seen it change direction! Some days it goes North to South, and other days it goes South to North."

"It's about perspective," Greta said, holding up her right hand balled in a fist. "Imagine that my hand is the world—you're familiar with Passol's observations, right? The world is shaped like a ball, just as my fist is. Imagine that you're standing on the joint of my thumb."

Next she held up the pointer finger of her left and traced a vertical circle in the air around her right hand, looping first above the fingers then down below the palm. "The satellites in orbit stay where they are, because there's no air to drag them, or ground to push them anywhere else.

"So when you see the satellites switch direction, its not their orbit that has turned," Greta said, turning the wrist of her right hand. Now her knuckles were facing the opposite direction. "It's the planet itself."

As Ellie watched Greta's finger continue to trace its path, she realized that where before it would have gone from her palm to her fingers, now that the hand was facing the other way, it would be viewed as tracing a path from her fingers to her palm. "Wow," she said. "That's… it's easy to forget that the world is spinning. What does it do up there?"

"It moves three kinds of information around," Greta said, "and each one is important in its own way. The first is called E-mail. It's just like a normal messenger, but instead of carrying a scroll or letter from place to place, it takes a letter, turns the words into energy, throws the energy up to the satellite, and then down again to a receiving station somewhere else, where the words are reassembled by another machine so you can read them."

Delivering messages was sometimes a Monarch duty, so Ellie asked, "How fast does it go? If I wanted to send a letter from Italica to Alnus, how long would it take to get there?"

Greta shrugged. "A few seconds. Maybe a minute if the message is really long, or you included lots of pictures.

"The second kind of information is mapping information," Greta went on. "It uses two more energy tools to find out how far below it the ground is, and what the ground is made of… the names that I heard are 'spectroscopy' and 'radar altimeter.' Using this, they can find out things about our world, like where all the islands are, how high the mountains are, and what kinds of rocks make up each. Before I was taken to this island, the Americans gave Pina a geological survey of the mountains around Sadera for her coronation anniversary. Turned out that there were diamonds sitting in one of the nearby mountains for thousands of years, and no previous Emperor had ever realized it."

Ellie recalled the big map that the lady at the Italica Station had shown her. All of her questions about it vanished as the answer clicked into place; it would be easy to make a map like that from high up in the air, and flying over the Great Sea Ice to the far South would be much easier than trying to sail through it, particularly if you could fly above the clouds, and if you were a machine that didn't mind the cold. "And the last piece of information?" Ellie asked.

"Navigation."

"You can already use it for navigation though," Ellie pointed out. "It's already pointing North or South every time you see it."

"It's more complicated than that. It uses the rules of triangles to tell you where you are in the world. And it's not just if you're North or South; it gives you a string of numbers that, when applied to a map, tell you _exactly_ where you're standing. The Americans have devices where you turn it on, and if the satellites are overhead, they tell you exactly where you are."

Ellie grinned at first. With a tool like that, she wouldn't even need to fly scouting flights or do navigation math. Andromache could keep her stupid sun tables; she'd just press a switch and then…

... _and then Monarchs as navigators would be worthless._

With machines like that, why would anyone want a Monarch for _anything?_ Machines to do mapping, machines to do scouting, machines to relay messages at great speed and do navigation… what did that leave for Monarchs to do? Even if she did return to the town by the sea and Andromache, the American machines would render her whole species pointless.

The grin faded from her face and she found herself hugging her knees to her chest. "Is that all?" she asked.

"From what I've heard," Greta said, with a shrug. "The Americans hide things sometimes, but they let me see pictures of the satellites before they launched them. Maybe I just didn't know what to look for, but the satellites themselves were pretty small, and they didn't have anything that looked like a weapon mounted on them. The only thing that struck me as strange was how accurate they could be with only three of them… Carol once said that GPS on Earth needs five or six satellites. Maybe they found a better way of doing things?"

Ellie looked up at the odd name. "Who's Carol?"

"She's… a friend of mine. From Earth. She taught me most of what I know. I haven't seen her in a while, though…" a pained expression passed over her face before she added, "But that's okay. I'm going to see her again soon."

"How s—"

"Three months," Greta said, then, noticing the confused expression on Ellie's face, repeated more firmly, " _Three months._ "

Ellie wasn't sure what to make of this. It was clear that something had Greta very upset, something related to this Carol person and the spaceplane project. She remembered Rory's cold smile and a shudder ran through her. _What's going on with that?_

So she asked, "Is that what you were praying about?"

Greta laughed and fell back on the sand. Tense mood broken, she said, "Nope. I pray because it's comforting… and because sometimes, on rare occasions, it works."

The Monarch gave a curious look back up at the sky, then down again at Greta. "But what about the Godwrecker?"

"What about it?"

"I thought that the deal between Hardy and the Americans was that the Gods weren't supposed to interfere on our world?"

"So?"

"So!? The Gods can't answer prayers, otherwise the Americans would use the Godwrecker again!"

Greta continued to stare up at the sky and brought a hand up to her chin. "I think there's two ways the Gods can communicate with people. One way is the big miracles that you hear stories about. Throwing up mountains, columns of fire, floods, opening Gates… those kinds of things. They're pretty rare to begin with and those are the things that the Americans stopped with their bomb.

"The second way is… I guess you'd call it inspiration? You'll be contemplating the Gods, and all of a sudden an idea will pop into your head. I had it a few times while trying to build the spaceships and carrier, and I watched it happen to Carol, and she hadn't prayed since she was a girl!"

Ellie shook her head. "I don't think Inspiration works that way. After all, you can get it without thinking about Gods, like when you're sitting in the bath or when you have nothing to do on long flights. Maybe it's not the Gods and its something that just...happens?"

"Maybe," Greta said, turning her head to look at Ellie. "Have you tried?"

"Praying?" Ellie shook her head. As the people in her town had pointed out, if the Gods didn't answer, there wasn't much point, was there?

"Don't you have something to pray about?"

The confusion of the past few days, the pain, the tears, her lack of an idea on what to do next all flood into her head. "No," she lied.

"Try it anyway, you might be surprised. Your middle marker is Fe, right? How does the prayer to Flare go?"

Ellie wracked her brains to try and remember the lines. " _From horizon to horizon, to the_ —" she pressed a palm against her forehead. "Or was it _from the_? I think it was _from_ , so why did I think _to_ … no, it's _'til_ , and that's the last...right, _from_ is the—'till is the last verse, _from_ is the first verse. Actually, what are we doing? You're supposed to say this one at the start of the day, not the middle of the night! Not much point in praising a Sun god after the Sun has gone down, right?"

Greta sighed and shook her head. "Never mind, I shouldn't have pushed at you like that. You've given me a lot of useful insight this afternoon, and I think that it should be enough for the flight tomorrow."

Ellie pointed up at the stars. "You're going into space?"

"Not quite. It's going to be a high-altitude test flight… I want to get at least 270,000ft this time. Space is 60,000 feet beyond that. I've done lots of lower altitude flights… but I won't know for sure if everything works until we're all the way up there, where the air is thin. The RCS thrusters, for example. You can't get a feel for them on the ground. If everything's successful, I'll try for Space in a few weeks."

She stood, brushed off the sand, and said, "If my flight changes your mind about flying, let me know!"

As Ellie watched her go, she didn't feel much more of a sense of direction than she had before. If anything, she felt more lost. Prayer, orbiting automatons, whomever Carol was…

She watched the Night Triangle disappear over the horizon and wondered if the American navigation machines were smart enough to tell her where she ought to go next.

* * *

 **Shirai's Observatory, Outskirts of Rondel**

Arpeggio was in the middle of cooking dinner when Flat burst into the observatory, short on breath and about to collapse, and she was the first to rush over to him, followed quickly after by Dr. Shirai. "They're onto us," Flat gasped. "We need to leave, now!"

Shirai nodded and ran back to get his laptop. After sending the initial evacuation request, he listened in as Flat outlined the details of what he heard. The astronomer sat with him the whole time, dutifully transcribing Flat's observations and sending them in a series of rapid-fire emails to Sugawara and Kengun. Fortunately, the American satellites were above the horizon, so the reply was fast.

 _We're sending the best we have._

Shirai didn't know what that meant, and was terrified at the prospect of getting caught in a massive firefight. After all, he was a civilian, not a soldier, and he still had awful memories of cowering in the barracks years ago as the JSDF fought Hardy's armies outside. Here, there were no soldiers standing between him and Rondel's guards.

As if to prove a point, he heard heavy knocking at the observatory door, and a gruff, unrecognizable voice shouting, "Open up!"

Shirai looked at Flat and his wife, who were in the process of hastily packing their things, then back to the door. He had put the two in enough danger already, and while the dogfight over Italica reflected poorly on Japan's current relationship with Rondel, it was better than nothing. Everyone knew how Japan had reacted to Japanese civilian POWs during the first war. Perhaps the people from Rondel would be more cautious. "Get ready," Shirai said. "I am going to stall them. Hopefully our help will arrive in time. If it sounds like they have attacked me, do not come to my aid. Run."

That said, with the observatory positioned on the side of a hill, it would be hard to run, and nearly impossible to escape, but they had to try.

Shirai forced his way out of the door, yanking it shut after him, and found himself nearly nose to nose with members of the Rondel Council Honor Guard. It was a mixed group, covered in varying degrees of armor, some wielding magic staffs, others holding the new musket weapons. _Was Nguyen responsible for those too?_ Shirai wondered.

"Can I help you?" Shirai asked the soldiers.

"We are here to arrest Flat El Coda on suspicion of high treason against the Council," the lead soldier stated. "Is he in there?"

"Ah, no, I'm afraid he isn't," Shirai said, and immediately began to doubt himself. He was a researcher, not a salesman, and he would normally send someone else to petition for grants. Surely the guard would see through him in seconds. "I'm in the middle of important observations, so…"

The guard dipped an eyebrow. "May we take a look inside?"

"No! No, there's...a chance that you'll mess up the observations!"

"Why?"

"The target I'm looking at must be recorded over a period of time… and if the telescope is jostled, even slightly, then I will be forced to wait until the next clear night to try again."

"Then you can record it later." The guard moved to go past the Professor, but Shirai blocked his way.

"Don't do that! I might not have a good view later! This might be a one-time event!"

"The Astronomy Council made no announcements. What could possibly be so important?"

Shirai blanked for a moment and heard the whistle of steam escaping the tea kettle that Arpeggio had left on the stove. _If I don't act quickly_ …

An idea popped into his head.

"You know my name, right?" Shirai said.

"Yes."

"And you've heard of the Shirai moons, yes?"

"Around the White Planet, yes, we've all heard."

"Did you know that one has an ocean?"

The guard frowned. "An ocean?"

"Not like the ocean here or on Earth, of course," Shirai clarified. "Using long distance, spectroscopy, I have determined that one of the moons is covered in a coating of ice. Now, one of the interesting features of this moon is that its orbit takes it close to the host planet, and this creates tidal forces on the planet itself. When that happens, you get earthquakes, volcanoes, internal heating… do you know what that means?"

The guards were all looking at him at this point with dumb expressions on their faces. Clearly they did not.

"It means," Shirai went on, "That the ice is being heated from underneath! This produces a liquid ocean, which may sometimes erupt as geysers through the icy crust. This is important, as water and an energy source are all that are required for the evolution of life—at least microbial life—on other worlds. Indeed, on Earth were are currently investigating two such moons, one around Jupiter and another around Saturn, and the Americans recently launched a probe called the Europa Clipper—"

While the part about Europa and Enceladus was true, the part about the Shirai moons was completely made up. Taking observations of the moons had been difficult, and his ground telescope was nowhere near powerful enough to resolve surface features or geysers on any of them. What he wouldn't give for a Hubble-sized telescope in Falmart's skies… but that was highly unlikely to ever happen. The guard seemed to think so too, for he said, "Enough, get out of my way."

"But my observations!"

"I said—"

The guard's head exploded.

Shirai stood there, mouth agape and splattered with gore as he tried to figure out what had just happened. The other guards were in a similar state, as they raised their staves and readied their firearms, pointing them out in all directions.

It was not enough. Shirai heard what sounded like a series of loud snapping noises, and the Rondel guards fell around him, blood flying everywhere. One single survivor dropped his musket and turned to run, but there was a loud hiss and an arrow appeared, as if by magic, through his throat, and he fell as well.

Shirai looked around again, trying to locate the assailants, and was shocked to hear a low, feminine, "Clear" from up the steep hill.

Standing there, one hand on a rappelling line, the other on a suppressed Heckler & Koch MP7, was a woman Shirai hadn't seen in years. Even after she lifted her night vision goggles, her dark features were still hard to make out in the dim light, and Shirai wouldn't have known who it was, save for the ears. Yao Ro Dushi reengaged the safety on her weapon and said, "Shirai- _hakase_ , are you alright?"

The professor nodded and took a few steps back to lean on the observatory wall. Some distant part of his brain noted that he was probably in shock, which wasn't being helped by the elf with a machine gun that was now securing a perimeter. "I don't see anyone else," she whispered into a field radio, "but I wouldn't be surprised if they send more guards once these fail to report back."

"Ugh, so stiff," came another voice from up the slope. This time, Tuka Luna Marceau, clad in digital camouflage and with a compound bow strapped to her back descended. "Noisy too. I thought these guns were supposed to be quiet?"

"It was quiet," Yao pointed out. "It was much quieter than when we practiced with the suppressors off."

"Not as quiet as a bow."

"Your _bow_ hasn't killed anyone yet," the dark elf pointed out. "The guard is still alive."

Tuka looked over to the guard with the arrow through his neck, who was still gurgling and thrashing on the ground. Shirai followed her gaze, only to see a member of the Japan SFG pull out a suppressed USP and finish the job. More Special Forces soldiers appeared, until Shirai was finally approached by their leader. "They said they were sending the best," Shirai told him, bowing. "And they were right."

"I hate having that kind of reputation," Captain Itami Youji said with a half-grin. "I'm missing an episode of Symphogear for this, you know!"

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Itami sighed and asked, "Are Flat and Arpeggio still in there?"

Shirai opened the door for him, and just as Itami was about to walk inside, he ducked, barely avoiding a bolt of yellow magical energy. "Watch it!" he shouted.

"Oh! Sorry!" Arpeggio said from inside. Glancing over Itami's shoulder, Shirai saw Flat's wife putting her magic bead weapon away. He had completely forgotten about its existence, and realized that it would have been better to ask her to offer magic support in the event of a conflict, pregnant or not.

Tuka poked her head in under Shirai's arm and cried, "Arpeggio! You've gotten so big; Lelei will be amazed!"

"Don't say it like that!"

"Itami," Yao said, joining them, "I think—"

"Okay, okay! Everyone, out of the doorway!" Itami said. "Flat, Arpeggio, grab your things and get outside. Professor, get your laptop and other stuff, then follow them. Saber, Lancer, I want thermite on the telescope, satellite relay, and anything we aren't taking that has a computer chip in it. Caster, you're on C-4 duty. _Move._ "

From there, the Japanese strike team moved with near-mechanical precision, making Shirai wonder how often this Special Forces unit had practiced the destruction of his observatory. He felt a pang in his heart as he watched one of the JGSDF soldiers toss a remote-activated thermite device into the lower aperture of the telescope tube, and an actual shiver as it struck the mirror inside with a dull _clunk_.

He returned outside to find Flat and Arpeggio talking with Yao, who was showing them the MP7 with pride. "...looking to learn if demihumans and elves can be used for a future Alnus SWAT team," she was explaining. "I am one of three dark elves in a pilot program that trains us in Earth weapons… and the only one who has had a chance to use them in field operations so far. I have also been training with the Type 89 Assault rifle, the Remington M24 Sniper, and the SIG Sauer P220."

"But not the Panzerfaust," Tuka teased. "The Japanese are convinced the dark elves would blow themselves up again."

"That was against a _dragon_ , and we had minimal training," Yao insisted, but the other elf merely stuck out her tongue in reply.

Itami placed a hand on Arpeggio's shoulder and said, "We're going back up the hill. I take it that you can't climb?"

Arpeggio nodded and Itami keyed his radio. "Rider, Berserker, we have one to three civilians that might need to be hauled up the hill. Archer, maintain overwatch."

Minutes later, they had harnesses on around Flat and Arpeggio, and were guiding them up the hill when Shirai approached Itami and asked, "Where are we headed?"

"Over the hill, and a Kilometer west to wait for pickup. After that? To Alnus, then we're moving three of you to Ichijima until everything blows over."

"Not to Tokyo?"

"Not now. A certain country is making claims about the Senkaku Islands again. If Flat and Arpeggio go there now, it gives them an excuse to escalate, like what happened at Hakone." Itami stifled a yawn and added. "One Hakone incident is enough for me, thanks."

"What about Nguyen?"

Itami hesitated, then said, "Not our problem. This is an extraction, not an invasion. Dr. Nguyen's location is too well defended to go after with a small force. The Brass said that they'd handle it, so, for now, let it go."

At the top of the hill, two more Special Forces soldiers greeted Shirai, taking his laptop and belongings as he passed them up, while a third soldier remained perched atop a large boulder, scanning the city below through the scope of his sniper rifle. Flat was in the middle of a hushed conversation with Arpeggio who insisted, "I'm okay!"

Once Itami and the others were up, most of them proceeded some distance into the woods before Itami held up a hand and said, "Hang on."

Shirai looked around, and then…

 _ **BANG**_

That would be the C-4 and thermite. In his mind's eye, Shirai pictured his beautiful telescope, now melted, shattered, and scattered to the wind like the silicate sand much of the instrument had been forged from. "Such a waste," he muttered. Seven million yen up in flames… and his source of additional academic papers along with it.

Itami and the others pushed them on for what felt like far longer than the suggested Kilometer before, at the edge of a clearing, he pulled out an infrared beacon, casually switched it on, strapped it to the side of his helmet, then thumped on his radio set again. "Come get us, it's cold out here."

In the distance, Shirai could hear the sound of bells as Rondel raised an alarm, following the explosion which surely must have been visible to everyone below. Though Itami's men had taken care to place the dead guards in the observatory before blowing it up, it wouldn't be long before someone put the pieces together and scouts were sent after them. As a result, it came as a relief to Shirai to hear the thrumming of the Chinook helicopter as it approached, ramp lowered and ready to take passengers.

But it wasn't fast enough. Shirai looked over his shoulder, and noticed torches and magical light advancing through the woods. "Uh, Itami-san—"

"Everyone, to the other side of the clearing. Keep Low," Itami said, and the Captain readied his own weapon. It was clear that the unknowns in the woods could hear the helicopter too, as they were speeding up, the torches bobbing up and down as they ran. Once the Rondel guards were actually in sight, Itami shouted at them in Imperial, "Stay back! Stay back or you will be fired upon!"

But the guards were already forming up into a skirmishing block, muskets out and ready. "Ready!" Their lead officer shouted, and a dozen weapons came up. "Aim!"

But the only one to actually 'fire' was the ramp gunner of the Chinook, whose M240 traced a line of burning death through the tightly-packed Rondel guards. After all, while Napoleonic fighting methods were a definite improvement over Roman swords and shields, it was still a severe mismatch against an enemy armed with heavy machine guns.

The helicopter touched down and Flat, Arpeggio, Shirai, and the Special Forces team scrambled aboard, just as another block of soldiers was starting to appear at the edge of the woods. Noticing the threat, the pilot pulled away, the ramp was closed, and the only indicator of counter-fire was a loud _ping_ as the volley of musket balls bounced harmlessly off of the CH-47JA's armor. In minutes, Rondel was far behind them.

"We're under air cover from Alnus," the copilot called back, and turned on the cabin lights. In the comparatively brighter lights, everyone looked exhausted to Shirai, but the important thing was that everyone was here and the mission had been accomplished successfully. Itami took off his helmet, winced at the lights, then patted Shirai on the shoulder. "A bit more hectic than Knappnai and Tanska, eh?"

"They only had arrows at Tanska," Shirai muttered, then, looking down at the laptop in his hands, realized that he'd been holding the machine in a death grip the whole time, and that the case was starting to warp. His father had been part of the Imperial Japanese Army during the last war, and Shirai had never been able to comprehend how the old man had put up with such stress on a regular basis. "Still, thank you for getting us out of there safely."

Nearby, Flat was about to add something when Arpeggio suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, eyes wide. "Did you forget something?" Flat asked, but his wife shook her head and placed a hand on her belly.

"Ummm…" she started.

"Don't you dare!" Itami said, catching on immediately.

"I think—"

"Don't say it!"

"I think...the baby's coming now."

The color drained from Flat's face, and he produced a choked, " _Now!?_ "

Arpeggio nodded.

Flat immediately looked to the Japanese Special Forces soldiers, his eyes full of alarm and begging for help, but as Shirai assessed the soldiers, they looked as panicked as Flat. These were men that could HALO jump into an ocean target in the dead of night, could haul 70 pounds for twelve miles in three hours without resting, and could blast the cranium off of an enemy over a mile away… but delivering a baby?

Eventually, all of them looked to Itami for instructions, causing him to throw up his hands, "What are you looking at me for!? Tuka, Yao, please tell me that one of you—"

"Of course," Yao said, passing her MP7 to one of the other soldiers. "Tuka, start preparing the mother. The rest of you, I need whatever medical supplies we have on hand."

Meanwhile, Itami rushed to the cockpit, shouting, "Change of plans! JSDF Hospital in Italica, as fast as you can!"

Left alone, Shirai leaned his head back against the bulkhead and covered his face with his hands. So much for this being an easy extraction!

* * *

 **Author's Note**

A combination of personal life items and the easy-to-misread planned ending for Chapter 12 means that there's going to be a significant delay between this chapter and the next one. Rest assured that I am continuing to work on the series (the draft for 12 is almost done, actually!) and I will be posting Chapters 12 and 13 within hours of each other to make up for the lost time.


	13. Chapter 12: Cruising Speed

_**Author's Note**_

Thank you for your patience. As promised, Chapter 13 will follow a few hours after this one.

I was originally able to keep up the once-every-ten-days pace due to the fact that I was able to get writing in during my lunch breaks. Unfortunately, I've had to devote those to dealing with a personal issue that isn't going away any time soon, so I suspect that chapter releases will be slower than I'd hoped.

 _That said_ , I am fairly confident that Chapter 14 will be ready within 10 days. We'll see after that. Since the story as a whole has only 18 chapters planned, I guarantee that you do not need to worry about this story being abandoned, and I am hopeful that the whole thing will be over before the summer ends.

In the meantime, let's get back to a more wholesome topic: theater nuclear strategy...

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Cruising Speed**

 **Headquarters, United States Fleet Activities Yokosuka, Japan**

Part of the Nuclear playbook for the Special Region dictated that, in the event that the Gods did _not_ attack before Clayton was safely on the other side of the Gate, launch control would transfer back to the President, and there would automatically be an "all hands" meeting to discuss the situation and future options. The Ambassador had gone through a pair of false alarms in previous years, but this event, for once, looked serious.

On the video screen across from him, President Mahana folded his arms and said, "Palapon? What's his deal?"

Next to Clayton, a scowling Kengun replied, "He's their god of revenge… and I believe that he was listed as the single dissenting voice to the nuclear pact with Hardy seven years ago."

"No known Apostle, no known center of worship," US Defense Secretary Barton added. "But if any god were to be most likely to break our agreement, Palapon would be at the top of my list."

Japanese Defense Minister Nomura looked up from his notes and asked, "Are you planning to attack?"

"If Palapon tried to attack us the way Hardy did, we wouldn't be having this discussion, and the counterattack would have happened already," Barton pointed out. "The fact that he has _not_ attacked, despite the fact that the details of the intervention were leaked to us, suggests that something else might be happening."

"And this Flat El Coda, we can trust him?" Mahana asked.

"Flat is a trustworthy source," Kengun confirmed. "He isn't like Yanagida; his motives are the safety of his family. He has nothing to gain by triggering thermonuclear war between us and the Gods of Falmart."

The President sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead, and said, "So, if we have a God intervening, but not for the sake of declaring war, then what's the objective?"

"If I may," Barton said, "The State Department believes that we are being tested. It would be impossible for Palapon to do something like this without the other Gods knowing, and they have not taken steps to intervene themselves, so the obvious conclusion is that we are being tested. They wish to see what degree of intervention they can get away with before we retaliate… much like how NATO and Russian aircraft probe each other's airspace for intercept and detection times.

"The important part is what comes next. Our current nuclear doctrine In Falmart was prompted by a large, conventional attack against Japan and civilians under its protection. This current intervention is not explicitly directed at Japan, and could easily be denied as intervention by either side of the civil war. I guess what I mean to say is… where's our red line?"

Kengun shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Nomura tapped the table in thought for a moment before pointing out, "The Gods do not know the exact number of bombs that we have over there, but they must know the location of all six launch platforms. This raises an additional series of problems, namely that an escalated conflict means that they can more easily retaliate before we launch a second strike… and the fact that any subsequent strikes will tip them off to the fact that some of the weapons are fakes, and that we haven't deployed as many weapons as we've suggested. If we do strike at the Gods, the attack must be decisive, or else…"

"Could Lelei hold the Gate open long enough and large enough to accomodate a boomer?" Barton asked. "There's an Ohio-class that we can—"

"Excuse me, we're getting off topic," Mahana said. "How far do we let them press? You people know the situation over there better than I do, so tell me what you think."

After thinking about it, Nomura supplied, "The breaking point with Hardy was the death of JSDF personnel. I think we should expand this to include all civilians and military personnel of Earth territories. Furthermore, anything that looks like a non-proxy attack on these groups should be considered a triggering event."

"If I'm understanding you correctly, you are framing this so that Palapon's intervention with Rondel does not merit use of the weapons," Barton said. "Is that correct?"

"We are still Japanese," Kengun firmly stated. "Given the option, we would prefer to avoid using the atomic bomb at all."

"I also understand that this puts responsibility for the outcome of the war against Rondel squarely on Sadera's shoulders," Clayton added. He had been quiet the entire meeting so far, so the statement brought all eyes on him. "Correct?"

As Kengun was about to agree, Nomura interrupted him. "That is no longer the case. I have received… pressure from the state department to extend the use of Alnus's JASDF assets to the Imperial forces."

Kengun looked back at him in wide-eyed shock. " _Eeeeeh?_ "

"It wasn't my call," Nomura clarified. "The Minister of Foreign Affairs pressured the Prime Minister into this, against my original suggestion."

Clayton raised an eyebrow. _Ministry of Foreign Affairs, huh?_ He had suspicions about what might have prompted this, but he would keep them to himself until he had proof.

"On the topic of foreign affairs, what's going to happen with Nguyen?" Kengun asked.

"The World Health Organization is going to send a small convoy back to Rondel to arrest him," Barton explained. They're going to have a few UN soldiers with them, with the assurance that US and Japanese forces will intervene if UN peacekeepers come under attack."

"UN Soldiers?" Mahana shot a look at his defense secretary. "How many? From which country?"

"About ten guys from Italy."

The President gave a chuckle. "Italy, huh? Okay, I can live with that. Does that sound good to you, Minister Nomura?"

"The Foreign Ministry has already approved it, Mr. President. Hopefully further involvement or intervention will not be necessary."

"Well, the US stands with you if you need us," Mahana said. "We'd be glad to lend forces from Island One and Alnus, just keep us in the loop, and we'll work with you."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Nomura, then Kengun stood, gave the man a bow, and left the room.

"Thanks for your time, Robert," Barton said, and reached forward to terminate the call when Clayton held up a hand, urging him to wait.

When the door was shut again, Clayton said, "About the nuclear deployment, I wanted to discuss another option."

"What other option?"

"You should be receiving weekly reports on a project with the code name ADMIT FUSCHIA."

If Barton was leaning or slouching to any degree before, he was bolt-upright now. Mahana gave a confused look between the two men and asked, 'What's AD—"

"I'm sorry, Mr. President," Barton said. "That's a Special Access Program. Top Secret, Compartmentalized, the works. Dare I call it a Black Project? I'll tell you if you need to know in the future, but the less you know about it now, the happier you'll be."

Mahana held up his hands and grinned in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! I'll leave the two of you to it! Thank you both for your time, gentlemen!"

They waited again for The President of the United States to leave, exchanged a few more code words, before Barton asked, "Why do you want to use ADMIT FUSCHIA?"

"The alternative is the Bomb," Clayton said. "We've both been there already. So have the Gods, and that means that it won't work."

"How do you figure that?"

Clayton tapped twice on his desk and said, "NUTS theory."

"That's not a clear answer."

"You were a General at USSTRATCOM, so you know the difference between NUTS and MAD, right?"

The Secretary of Defense frowned. "MAD, or Mutually Assured Destruction, is where any attack on a defender results in the defender absolutely destroying the attacker, while the attacker launches a similar all-killing strike. In a strategic nuclear war, it was a mind game we played with the Russians, and seen as a way of preventing a nuclear war from starting to begin with.

"In the 1980s, Jimmy Carter moved the US to NUTS, or Nuclear Utilization Target Selection, which is a game theory that doesn't make nuclear war winnable, but it does make it survivable...in theory. The idea is that if an attacker uses one nuke on a defender, the defender uses an equal-sized nuke in response, because if the defender used a bigger nuke or more of them, it would result in a second strike from the attacker. The idea is that it gives both parties a chance to de-escalate and step away from a MAD scenario...but I'm still not seeing it. The Gods of Falmart don't have nukes."

"They don't have nukes, but they do have nuclear resistance," Clayton argued. "We know that an atomic weapon can _harm_ the Gods. They know that too. Sure, it hurts them a lot, but the group that took the most damage from the last attack was Carenth. The Gods know that a nuclear attack is survivable, and the only reason why they'd be willing to let Palapon play his game is because they feel that they can take the hit if he screws up and forces us to launch. That's NUTS theory; they think that they can trade one intervention for one nuke. If that's the case, it doesn't stop the Gods from intervention, it just gives them a calculus to decide how often to intervene. If they ever figure out that we've only got three weapons over in Falmart, and they make us use all of them, we're screwed."

"And your solution to this problem is ADMIT FUSCHIA?"

"The NROL-SR constellation has been completed for over a year, and the ground components were already in place by the time Dirrel's administration ended," Clayton said. "I may not be Secretary of Defense anymore, but I suspect that the project is ready for field use. Am I correct?"

Barton still did not give a clear reply, and folded his hands on the table. "It's less a case of if we can use it and more a case of if we should use it. Talking about Hydrogen bombs is hard already. If we start using ADMIT FUSCHIA, it wouldn't just change the tide of the battle, it would redefine warfare as a whole. Carenth is bad enough, but if Dr. Dawson and President Dirrel hadn't stepped in, the blood of every man woman and child in Bellnahgo would have been on your hands. Depending on how people react once they learn that this thing exists, the outcome could be far, far worse. Are you really willing to carry that weight?"

Clayton could not reply, he opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, but ultimately looked away from the screen.

"Think about it," Barton said. "I'm willing to leave it open as an option, but you think long and hard before you decide to go through with it."

The Secretary of Defense cut the connection, leaving Robert Clayton alone with nothing but a dozen, troubled thoughts.

* * *

 **MIDDAY**

 **Ichijima Island, The Special Region**

Ellie had ever known mealtime in two different formats. One involved buying and preparing her own food, the other involved waiting at a table as food was prepared by someone else.

Therefore, it was with a large degree of nervousness and disorientation that she worked to balance her Mess Hall tray as she walked away from the buffet and towards one of the tables. The food smelled well enough, but it came in shapes and consistencies that she wasn't familiar with. The first thing she did was to poke at a small-tube shaped noodle covered in melted cheese with a fork made from some clear, transparent material that was too light and supple to be glass. None of it made sense to her; the fork, the shaped pasta, the evenly melted cheese… and when she finally tasted some she couldn't decide if its strangeness was a symptom of her never experiencing it before, or the chef preparing it wrong.

Around her, members of the JMSDF, JGSDF, US Navy, and US Marine Corps indulged in their own lunches. She spotted a few groups of Falmart natives, some of them demihumans, but was too frightened to approach. After all, McKann had impressed on here that these were Falmart's best scientists and researchers, whereas she was… what was she, exactly? Sure, she had briefly discussed some flight tricks with Greta, but those were all things any six-year-old Monarch could explain. She was hardly an expert of her field.

"May I assume that the seat across from you is not taken?"

Ellie looked up to see Hector, the dark visage of his burned face and black cloak totally at odds with the colorful lunch tray in his hands. She shook her head and gestured to the other side of the table.

Hector himself seemed quiet, ponderous, and regarded the food on his tray with the same level of confusion that Ellie had felt earlier. "Have you any idea what these things are?"

"No? Are you even sure it's food?"

"The American soldier in the line before me requested these items, so I would assume so. This looks like meat. This looks like a plant of some kind… and this is water. I think. What kind of a drink is that?"

Ellie looked to the carton on her tray and the brownish fluid within and shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "But the chef seemed eager to get me to try it."

Hector tried some of the meat and, seeming satisfied, said, "I spent much of yesterday discussing flight wards and explosion magic with Quintal El Korus. From a practicality standpoint, what they've discovered is remarkable. I wonder if there are places on Earth like this too, where a government dumps mountains of money on people to go discover things."

"Who's Quintal?"

"He's Greta's Flight Engineer. The reason why were allowed to come to this island at all was because the Americans and Greta were hoping to make us into a second test flight crew, but I believe that any knowledge they wish to impart could be useful both inside and outside their… space-ship." The mage raised an eyebrow. "Which I hear that you don't plan to fly."

Ellie set her fork down. "I don't want to talk about it."

"From the sound of it, they explained to you what the Night Triangle is, and it's only a matter of time before I encounter Ms. Mercury or Mr. Clayton. We owe them this much."

"I said, I don't want to talk about it."

Hector's lip twitched and the raised eyebrow bent down. "I think you do," he said. "Whatever it is, you haven't talked to anyone yet, and—"

" _Fine!_ You want to know what I think!?" Ellie said, standing up. "I think those things are death traps. They're made of dead parts bolted together in a way-to-hard set that's _bound_ to break, and even if they don't, they treat the slightest error of the pilot as a disaster! Why would anyone stake their life like that!? And have you even seen the spaceship? It looks like it's going to fall apart! You can't see out of it! You're encased in steel and locked in with a vice! I almost died over Italica, I saw how easily these things fall apart, and I can't do that again, I just can't!"

She was on the edge of tears, and knew she had drawn the attention of half the cafeteria, but she didn't care. None of these people got it, none of them _understood_ what it felt like to be trapped like that.

Hector's response was unusual. The side of his mouth dropped into a frown, and he said, "If your plan was to crash the Rondel plane to begin with, why are you surprised—"

"YOU WEREN'T THERE!" She shrieked.

And as she did so, the scowl dropped off Hector's face and was replaced with...sympathy? _No,_ she told herself. _No, he can't get it, because that would mean—_

She turned and stormed out of the cafeteria. Ellie didn't want to be near anyone, or talk to anyone. She wanted to fly away, but she couldn't, not with the American air defenses online. Instead, she ran. It didn't matter that she was on an island, and there was nowhere to go. She ran anyway, until the soreness in her leg and arm and wings, reminiscent of the crash, all flared back up and she stumbled and fell to her knees. It was midday, so she felt like the bright blue sky and warm sun were mocking her.

When a shadow finally settled over her minutes later, she was thankful. Immediately less so when it produced a voice. " _Well?_ "

Ellie looked up to find Rory, short as she was, staring down at her, halberd balanced across one shoulder, that same sick grin plastered across her face.

 _Why won't everyone just LEAVE!_ Ellie felt her left hand balling into a fist, but was halted when Rory tilted her head and said, "Do it. Let's see how far you get."

She wouldn't get far, of course. Her fists against an Apostle? She'd get chewed up faster than the Rondel MagThree after the Efftoo spotted it.

Without any other options, Ellie screamed, she swore, she lobbed every obscenity she could think of at her, and Rory took it all without so much as a single change of face. After a few minutes the Apostle went so far to cover her mouth to suppress a yawn. When Ellie finally ran out of breath, Rory slowly shook her head. "A pity. For a moment I thought you'd actually try."

"I'll—I'll—" Ellie wheezed, and Rory spun her halberd around so that the bottom of the pole rested at the tip of Ellie's nose. The Apostle gave a slight push, and Ellie toppled over backwards.

"Do you even know what you want?" Rory asked.

After a while, Ellie shook her head.

"Then go find someone who does." Rory leaned in close enough so that they were almost eye to eye. "If you go now, you'll catch her before she leaves."

It took Ellie a moment to realize—she meant Greta! She wasn't sure what the Apostle meant, but she was ready to jump at anything by that point. Rory knew something—was waiting for something—but what?

She scrambled to her feet and looked around, trying to get her bearings, only for Rory to raise her halberd, point, and hiss, " _Run._ "

—-

 **Ichijima Airstrip**

The aircraft on the dirt airstrip was massive, which would have amazed Ellie enough if it was American or Japanese. It was neither. Rather, it was an upscaled, twin-bodied MagThree. Suspended between the two hulls, one of Greta's spacecraft.

Greta herself was standing atop the ship, climbing into in a strange suit—it looked leathery, not in a slick way, but like a water-resistant cloak. She had drawn it most of the way over her shoulders when Ellie finally made it within shouting range. "You made it!" Greta called out to her, clearly excited. "I was just thinking of you! The last Navy weather balloon had some interesting things to say about mid-level winds… but I've been there before. Any thoughts?"

"Just the spin recovery stuff we talked about," Ellie said. Her voice was still hoarse, so she wasn't sure that Greta heard her all the way. Nonetheless, Greta seemed to be giving her full attention and nodded in appreciation, then reached down and offered her hand.

"What are you—"

"Come on up!"

"But—"

"You're not flying anything today, but I figured you might like a look. You'll be back on the ground before we start moving. I promise!"

Ellie gave her an unsure look, but ultimately reached out. Greta grabbed her hand and hauled her on top of the spaceplane, then gestured at the action going on around them. "When the Americans did their version, they dropped it from a B-52," she said. "But I think this design works better. Carol showed me the carrier airplane for SpaceShipOne, and it also looked kind of like this. It didn't come out _exactly_ the same, but that's to meet the needs of magic. It really did a number on the _Freedom_ and _Independence_ —it barely looks like an X-15 anymore, but it still works!"

Ellie asked about the strange English names, so Greta clarified, "They show movies at the base sometimes, and one time there was this movie with two spaceplanes that use an atom bomb to blow up a—but that's not really important. The names sounded cool, so I decided to keep them." She knocked twice on the hull beneath her and added, "This is the _Freedom_ , by the way. _Independence_ is back at the hangar."

"And an X-15?"

Greta reached inside the strange outfit and pulled out a stiff piece of paper. On closer inspection, Ellie could see that it wasn't normal parchment, but something Earth-made; glossy, with a picture covering one side. The picture was of a black Earth airplane with stubby wings and wheeled landing gear… yet it had some of the similar, rough, bolted together qualities that were apparent in Greta's airplane. Framing the picture, a collection of engineering views presented just enough information that one could probably figure out the dimensions and panel sizes. "Turn it over!" Greta urged.

On the back, a series of scribbles in Japanese text. "What does it say?" Ellie asked.

The older pilot didn't even glance down at the words; she had clearly memorized them. "It says, Because you're worth it too! Can't wait to see it fly! Best wishes, Carol Dawson."

"Carol must be amazing."

"When they let me see her, I'll introduce you!"

Ellie smiled. "Three months, right?"

But rather than the supportive effect she'd hoped for, Greta's smile faltered, if only for a moment. "That's right," she said. "Anyway, time for me to get suited up!"

There was a pair of American support staff atop the plane, probably making final preparations with the Lockheed-Martin box. One of them handed a small machine to Greta who slipped it around one ear, then shifted the remainder of the suit over her body and head. The only way Greta could see out was through a pair of glass circular windows in the suit near where her eyes were, and she slid open another small spring-loaded hatch near the side of her head by twisting it. "It's not much," she said, "The Blue Origin space suits were much better, and much easier to get into, but for the technology we have, simple seemed like the way to go. This design is actually based off of an old Russian space suit called Orlan, and I like it because there's only one opening that needs to be sealed up."

Ellie shuddered at the idea. Being locked into a metal box was bad enough, but being locked into an airtight body-bag too? Which was when she realized, "How do you breathe in that?"

"There's no air up there, so we need to carry that too," Greta admitted. "The inside of the spacecraft maintains some pressure, but, after a certain altitude, the rest gets put in through a pipe, which gets connected to this part here." She pointed to the open port for clarification. "If it were a longer flight, bad air buildup might be a problem, but these flights don't need to stay pressurized for longer than half an hour or so."

She moved to stuff the postcard into the suit, but hesitated and offered it to Ellie. "I usually leave it with the Americans," Greta said. "But this time… I feel like giving it to you."

"Why?"

"I've leaned on the Americans a lot over the years, and today… today I figure it's time to start showing them that Falmart can do cool things too." She winked. "The highest Neil Armstrong ever went in an X-15 was two hundred and seven thousand feet. Today, I plan to beat him."

Ellie didn't know who Neil Armstrong was, but as she was guided off of the spacecraft, she took one final look at Greta. Obscured as her face was by the space suit, she exuded the confidence of an engineer with pride in her invention, and a clear expectation to succeed. She gave Ellie one last wave, then followed her flight engineer into the spaceplane.

Once Ellie and the ground crew were out of the way, the Super-MagThree rushed into motion. Six flight magicians, all operating in concert, muttered their enchantments into the spaces between the wings, and the giant wood aircraft started its way down the airstrip. As she watched them go, one of the American sailors tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Are ya gonna listen in?"

Ellie gave him a quizzical look, so the sailors waved her to follow, and Ellie soon found herself on the beach, where a number of other sailors, marines, and JMSDF personnel had gathered. Many of them were passing out heavy combined-spyglasses—"Binoculars"—while others had set up one of the noise boxes, which was presently reverberating with Greta's voice. "Five thousand feet, looking good so far," she was saying.

Commander McKann was there too, so Ellie asked him how they could possibly be hearing Greta from so far away. "They've got a radio onboard," he explained. "It's built into the avionics box from Skunkworks. Makes it so that all the flight data makes it to the ground safely, regardless of how the flight itself turns out...but Greta's a good pilot. I have high hopes."

McKann passed her his set of binoculars and helped point her to the right place. Ellie had operated ship spyglasses before, so the experience wasn't entirely new, but the level of magnification was unprecedented. She could see the whole of the spaceplane and its carrier aircraft as they climbed.

"Five seconds to detach," she heard Greta said. "Two, one, _now_."

The spaceplane dropped from where it had sat, suspended between the two fuselages, and then it took off like…

She had a mental image of Bozes's daughter, hands above her head and shouting, "VOOM!" She still had no idea what a rocket was, but the motion seemed to fit.

"Approaching thirty thousand," Greta said. "Airspeed...okay, now!"

There was a bright blue flash and, for a moment, Ellie feared that the spacecraft had exploded, but no, it was a stream of concentrated magical energy being forced out of the rear exhaust port and the tiny ship continued to accelerate. In fact, if not for the lightning-blue exhaust, Ellie would have probably lost it against the sky already.

"Looking stable!" Greta said. To Ellie her voice sounded labored and she wondered why. Perhaps it was similar to the strain on her wings during a dive? Or were there other forces at work on the way up to space?

A few seconds passed, and Greta reported, "One hundred thousand," then, a few minutes later, "Are you… okay, engine out. We're on ballistic flight."

"What happened?" Ellie asked.

McKann shrugged. "It's a test flight, so they probably loaded less fuel than the maximum load. They're still going up right now, just like a rock will keep going up for a while after it leaves your hand when you throw it. After a certain point they'll slow enough to come back down."

"Two hundred and still climbing!" Greta cheered from the radio. "Looking good up here. Rate of climb is starting to go down, I'm going to try the RCS system… wow! Okay, hang on a second…"

"Can you ask her what's going on?" Ellie asked.

McKann shook his head. "Out of range. A long range receiver would add extra weight, so Greta left it off."

"Just a… okay, there we go," Greta finished. "RCS works, but the force I'm getting from each thruster is a little different. Regimus, if you're listening, make a note to ask the Japanese and Americans if there's such a thing as an air pressure gauge… and if we can borrow one."

The men and women around her laughed. Those that did not speak fluent Imperial waited as their comrades translated, followed by a second, weaker wave of laughter.

"Everything else seems to be working just fine!" Greta concluded. "Conducted a full roll without any problems… we're still a bit too deep in the atmosphere for me to feel safe with a pitch-over...okay, that's all for now. We're descending."

After another few minutes, one of the sailors pointed and everyone turned their binoculars in that direction. It took Ellie an extra moment, but she eventually found the spaceplane as a dark speck against the sky. A few minutes later, and she could see features on the plane as it descended. "Okay," Greta said. "We're almost done with our reentry turns. Altitude—wait—"

And as Ellie watched, the spaceplane began to tilt down and turn.

 _A stall?_ Ellie wondered. _No, a spin!_ She had warned Greta about these. Greta had never encountered one before Ellie had mentioned them, so Ellie had taken great pains the day before to go over stall recovery procedures with Greta, including some time to figure out the cockpit controls that would let Greta recover on her flight.

And indeed, at this distance, Ellie could barely see the control surfaces as Greta bent the rudder away from the spin and pushed the elevator forward… but nothing happened.

Which was when Ellie realized, _the recovery maneuver had failed!_ The stubby control surfaces were designed with an emphasis on speed over mobility, and so the aircraft was not creating enough drag to cancel out the spin. She muttered under her breath, "No, no, no."

But Greta couldn't hear her, and the only indicator they heard from the radio was a grunt and muttered, " _Come on, come on,"_ as she continued to fight with the controls.

Ellie lowered the binoculars. The falling craft was close enough that they could see it, and the surface of the ocean it was approaching.

"Do something!" Ellie cried, then, looking at the military men around her, shouted, "Do something!"

But the beach was dead silent. The only one who reacted was McKann, who hissed into a small radio handset, "Medevac, pararescue, move it!"

Whatever that was supposed to do, there was no time left. Just above the waves, there was a bright blue flash, and the plane suddenly decelerated… nowhere near fast enough.

The last they heard from the radio was a resigned " _Oh,_ " When the spaceplane hit the water, it was still moving over sixty miles per hour.


	14. Chapter 13: Holding Pattern

**Chapter 13: Holding Pattern**

 **Ichijima**

Ellie had once seen Marines from Tinae board a disabled pirate ship, and, at the time, she had thought it the most advanced and technically involved thing she had ever seen; the timed crossbow volleys, the synchronized boarding planks, and the men leaping or swinging from one ship to the other. The whole thing made for quite a spectacle, before it devolved to a hand-to-hand slog.

It was almost unsurprising by that point that the Americans could come up with something to beat it. A pair of V-22s thundered over the beach, rushing out to the site of the crash, rear sections deploying as they did so. Once in position, Ellie watched as half a dozen men _jumped_ out of the back of the helicraft and into the sea, and deployed rafts and other floating masses that seemed to unfold and expand from small packages of their own accord. The Americans (Marines? Sailors? Soldiers? Ellie wasn't sure) had the crashed plane swarmed in minutes, and worked rapidly as possible to rescue the people within.

An hour later, Ellie stood inside of a building much like the one in Italica—immaculately clean and filled with beds and curious machines that made noises and displayed changing pictures. In one bed, at a room at the end of the hall, lay Greta.

Ellie had shown up for one reason only; to return Carol's postcard. Therefore, she was surprised to run into Hector and McKann by Greta's bed as well. "...no mechanical failure from what we could tell," McKann was saying, "But the wings and the spacecraft are currently under a hundred and fifty feet of water. Greta was lucky that we got her out as fast as we did."

They looked over at Ellie, weary looks on their faces, before Hector commented, "She'll live, from the looks of it, but it was very, very close."

Ellie swallowed, thinking of how hellish those last few moments must have been for her. "I, uh," she held up the postcard. "I came to return this."

The men gave her understanding nods and stepped out of the way. The woman on the hospital bed had a few differences compared to Ellie when she had woken up in Italica. For one, Greta was sleeping on her back instead of her front, and for another some of her limbs were restrained by straps or plaster casts. The tube and IV needle were still there, as was the finger-clip that lead to the picture monitor. With a sigh of understanding, Ellie placed the postcard into Greta's right hand.

As if a switch had been flipped, the numbers and lines on the graph suddenly jumped and Greta's eyes flickered open. "Uh—" she began and moved to sit up but McKann pressed a hand on her shoulder and said, "You're in the hospital, don't move."

Greta blinked, trying to get her bearings. "What happened?"

"You crashed."

"I don't remember crashing."

"You hit your head pretty hard," McKann bent over and said, "Can you tell me your name and today's date?"

Greta gave both, but then said, "I remember… we were on descent...what happened?"

"You got stuck in a spin," Ellie said, as McKann stood up straight and backed up a step. "You weren't able to recover, stalled out, and went into the sea."

"... how bad was it?"

"The short version?" McKann said. "Fifteen broken bones, internal bleeding, punctured lung, a concussion, and a whole boatload of sprains, strains, and lacerations. Navy Pararescue was able to get you stable long enough to get you to this hospital, but the surgeons are convinced that if we didn't have the best damn magicians in Falmart along with the third-best hospital on this planet, you'd be a vegetable at best, but more likely just dead."

"And My flight Engineer? Quintal?"

"He didn't make it. His injuries were as bad as yours, but he was in the rear seat, which was already underwater by the time my men cut you out of the plane. Beyond that, releasing that much magical energy at once, even with a focus crystal, is enough to cause a brain aneurysm. He went down with the plane."

The blood drained from Greta's face. "His family?"

"They're being attended to. We'll try to recover the body when we send divers to get the avionics box and data recorder from Skunkworks."

"So the _Freedom_ is underwater?"

"Consider the plane unrecoverable. We don't have the equipment In the Special Region to haul the whole thing off the bottom—"

"I'll ask the magicians about it," Greta said. "Once I heal, I'll try again with the _Independence._ "

Hector balked at her. "Are you insane!?"

Greta gave him an uncharacteristically steely stare. As far as Ellie was concerned, Hector was correct. The woman _had_ to be insane. To want to try again so soon, after walking a paper-thin distance from death itself... _why?_ Was she suicidal, perhaps?

"The Americans have a saying," Greta said, coldly, " _Space is hard._ This is not my first crash, nor the first time that I've lost a copilot, wingman, or flight engineer. When that happens, you cry your eyes out, but you do not let it stop you. I will not let this stop me."

McKann coughed, drawing everyone else's attention before saying, "About that—"

"What?" Greta snapped.

"Your hand…"

Greta looked down at the hand in question, the one, Ellie had slipped the postcard into, briefly up to Ellie in thanks, then curled her fingers around the tough paper.

Or...she tried.

Her fingers didn't move at all.

She reached over with her other hand and grabbed at her wrist, then looked up at McKann in a panic. "It'll wear off," she said, "Right?"

The Commander took a deep breath and replied, "Based on our experiments, healing magic does not work on damage that is older than sixty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds. When we brought you in, the priority of our doctors was on your head and core. Your limbs were last. While we can extend the magic timing by carefully rebreaking certain organs and tissues, nerve tissue is the exception. The nerve in your arm got torn through by a compound fracture...and that's why your hand and wrist won't move."

Greta did not react at first, but her eyes remained locked with the Navy officer's. When she did speak, her voice came out flat. "I need that hand to operate the RCS controls," she said. "Fix it."

McKann folded his arms.

" _Fix it._ "

"We can't."

" _ **BULLSHIT!**_ You're Americans, you can do _anything!_ " Greta's composure had completely broken. Her eyes were wild, and she threw herself against the equipment and sheets holding her to the bed as she screamed, on the edge of tears, " _Tell me you can fix it, NOW!_ "

But McKann said nothing. Ellie reached out to place a hand on Greta's shoulder but the pilot whirled on her next, like a caged animal. "You don't understand," she cried, "If I don't go up, _they'll never let me see Carol again!"_

Ellie took a step back and turned her attention back to the American commander, who had a puzzled expression on his face as he said, "That's not—"

"It's my fault!" Greta said, "All of it! The Americans saw my presentation at the Kennedy Space Center and got scared! They took us all here to push at magic and technology so that when Falmart re-invented it, they would already know how to fight it! _That's_ why I have to go! Once I get to space, they'll be done with me, which is why Carol said—"

She let out a deep cough, and the hand that she threw up to cover her mouth came away full of blood. "I have to," she groaned, " _I have to go—_ "

By this point, a group of doctors, nurses, and magicians had rushed over. One of them slapped a mask over Greta's nose and mouth, and in seconds her eyes flickered shut again and she dropped back onto the bed.

By this point, Hector had gotten into the act, and was rushing for McKann, but didn't get very far as a a marine appeared behind him and placed a firm hand on the magician's shoulder. The marine's other hand rested lightly on his sidearm. "Don't you think," Hector growled, "That it's time you explained what's really going on here."

McKann frowned. "I told you. Research."

"At _our expense._ "

"What expense? You don't need to do anything if you don't want to. Look at Giselle. She sits around watching anime all day."

"That doesn't mean you can just go make prisoners of us!"

"You leave this place, you'll become prisoners anyway," McKann said. "Before we brought Greta here, she was working under armed guard for the Saderan Empire. Lelei? Constantly pestered and observed by the Rondel Council. Ellie's mentor—Andromache, right? Taken into custody by Countess Myui the minute she heard we were taking Ellie away. She's now being made to train the Saderans in experimental air combat maneuvers. Here, we don't care. Do you understand that part? The US and Japan doesn't care what you do with your time here, as long as whatever you're doing _isn't_ for someone other than Japan or the US."

"So Greta was telling the truth?" Ellie asked, confused. "You're afraid?"

"It's more complicated than that—"

"How could a country that uses Godwreckers—" Hector started but McKann cut him off.

" _We don't nuke people just because we can!_ "

Hector said nothing, but Ellie could see the struggle on his face, the anger, the pain, and the disbelief at the American's words. She could imagine what he was thinking, _Then why did you use it on us!?_

The Commander took a deep breath, then started his explanation. "If we let The Special Region be, you would eventually want trade with the rest of Earth. It's only natural. I mean, look at Rondel! They've made a fortune off of trading with Japan. Part of that means pressing for a right to trade with other Earth nations, and that runs the risk of putting magi-tech weapons in the hands of our military rivals at home." McKann shook his head. "Even with the trade halt in place, we ran the risk of encountering magic weapons, or even improvised Earth technology here too. Until either Japan or the United States comes up with an option to remove the threat posed by magic, the technology invented on this island, stays on this island. Same goes with the inventors."

"So Greta and Carol…" Ellie said.

"I want to see Greta and Dr. Dawson back together as much as anyone here, but that cannot happen while we've got Rondel, the Saderans, and the whole damn Chinese PLA breathing down our necks, waiting for us to slip up."

"Then how much longer will she have to wait?"

"We don't know. I'm not asking you to be happy. I'm asking you to be patient with us so that when we _do_ finally open up the Gate to everyone, it doesn't result in World War Three."

The last words didn't have any clear meaning to Elle, but the way that McKann put emphasis on them gave her pause. Her own confusion, Greta's despair, and now a threat of war that had even the Americans in a panic? It was too much. She backed away from the scene, first slowly, then faster as she broke into a run. Hector called out after her, but she wasn't listening by that point. _I have to get out,_ she thought, _there has to be a way out of all of this!_

* * *

 **Outside the Imperial Palace, Sadera**

With three atomic bombs and one black project on his mind, the last thing that Clayton wanted as he stepped out of the V-22 in Sadera was another source of stress. Unfortunately, the Special Region had been uncooperative with him all week, and this afternoon didn't seem to be shaping up any differently.

Waiting beyond the landing area was Sugawara, who was in the middle of a harried conversation with a pair of US Diplomatic Security Service agents. "What's going on?" Clayton asked.

"It's Pina," the Japanese Ambassador said. "She has locked herself in her room, posted a guard, and refuses to come out."

"Let me guess, a new Manga shipment?"

Sugawara rolled his eyes. "No. If it was, there wouldn't be an armed guard."

"Did she make any demands?"

"Yes. She wants to speak with either you, or Itami Youji. Captain Itami is currently in Italica, as his debriefing for the Rondel mission was delayed by unexpected circumstances. I am told that he needs to go to Ichijima after that. This leaves you."

Clayton shot him a confused look. "She wouldn't talk to you?"

He shrugged.

Pina _had_ said something just before he had boarded the V-22 for Alnus, but he had been so distracted and the turbines of the helicraft had been so loud that he couldn't recall a word of it. "Fine," Clayton said, then added to the two DSS agents, "Both of you, with me, please."

As Sugawara led him through the royal palace, he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten Pina so up in arms. Had Palapon's intervention been leaked? Had Saderan forces engaged with Rondel?

He arrived in the parlor before the Empress' chambers to find a standoff. On one side, Sherry and a handful of Saderan royal guardsmen. On the other, a small group of Rose-Knights, lead by Hamilton Uno Ror.

"Her Majesty cannot hide in there forever," Sherry was saying. "There are forms to fill, laws to pass, and a war to administer."

"I'm sorry," Hamilton said with a resigned sigh, "Pina does not want to talk to anyone right now except for… ah, Ambassador Clayton! This way please."

As Clayton and the DSS agents moved to pass through the door, Sugawara tried to follow, but Hamilton blocked him. "What is this!?" he cried. "America gets to talk to Pina and Japan doesn't?"

"If Japan wishes to send an envoy to speak to Pina, please send Itami-san." She closed the door behind her, blocking any further noise of the conversation.

Inside the room, Pina sat on the edge of her bed, sword in her lap and clad in her Rose-Knight armor. "Thank goodness!" she said, standing. "Ambassador, I'm sorry about all of the added security, but a disturbing, potentially dangerous piece of information made it to my attention."

Clayton gave a polite nod and smile, adding, "If there is anything the United States of America can do to assist, I'll let you know. What's troubling you?"

The look of consternation on her face grew, and her mouth worked, as if trying to figure out how to properly structure the statement. "I now believe," she finally said, "That Sherry may have compromised Ambassador Sugawara."

Clayton's eyebrows arched and his mouth dropped partway open as a dumbfounded expression took over his face. Perhaps Pina would think that this news surprised him.

What he wanted to say was, _NO SHIT, SHERLOCK! This has been going on for SEVEN YEARS and just now you've noticed!? They were doing practically everything shy of screwing on the negotiation table! I knew you were a moron before, but GOD DAMN IT!_

What he actually said was, "...oh?"

"This must come as a shock to you."

"Truly."

The Empress then proceeded to tell him everything she'd heard. Clayton was not impressed; Sherry was using some of the oldest tricks in the book to consolidate power, and the fact that neither Pina nor Sugawara had picked up on it was beyond distressing. "I don't know what to do," Pina said. "If Itami were here…"

Clayton waited for her to finish, but when she didn't, he said, "What do you want?"

"Pardon?"

"Lay it out simply for me. What are you afraid of losing from this relationship between Sherry and Sugawara?"

" _I_ don't want anything," Pina stated. "But I've lived through the reign of a tyrant. Sherry isn't as vicious as my brother was… she's shrewd, and it makes be worried that she doesn't have the interests of the people at heart."

"Okay," Clayton said with a shrug. "Fire them."

"What?"

"Take away Sherry's position, and tell Japan that you want a new ambassador."

"But if I do that, the Senate will retaliate, and Japan might pull military support!"

"That's right."

"I can't do that!"

"Then you're going to have to live with both of them."

"I can't do that either!"

Clayton folded his arms and frowned. The nature of politics was often about choosing between one of multiple least-bad options. For Pina, whose reign had been mostly handled by other parties and whose peace was functionally secured by Earth countries, this was her first big decision in a long while. "Itami would know a way out of this," she insisted.

"Itami's a poor choice of geopolitical role model," Clayton said. "He creates his own rules."

Pina sadly nodded, then froze, her eyes becoming wide all of a sudden. "What if the Senate had heroes they liked better than Sherry?"

"I don't—"

"Yes, that's it! The only way to prevent a consolidation of power is to show that Sherry's plans have problems, and that other people might have a better grasp on the world than she does. And for that…" she took a few excited steps towards Clayton. "Your island Fortress, I want you to take me there!"

Clayton didn't even need to think about his answer. "No." Taking her to the island would undermine the entire point of keeping Earth technology separate from the Saderans, and doing so in the middle of a war would not help achieve that goal.

The Empress took a deep breath, clearly nervous about her next move, stood, and faced Clayton.

She drew her sword.

The reaction from the two DSS agents was immediate, one producing a Glock 19, the other a MP5K from their jackets as they rushed forward and shoved Clayton behind them. "What the hell are you doing!?" The Ambassador shouted.

"Creating my own rules," Pina declared. "Ambassador Clayton, I am hereby taking you hostage."

Clayton nervously looked around the room, expecting other royal guards or Rose-Knights to appear, but none did. He had two armed DSS agents between him and Pina, and she was threatening him with a sword. The agent with the Glock was already muttering into a radio, and a dozen heavily-armed US Marines would be on the scene in minutes. "I must be missing something," Clayton said. "There is no way—"

"You're right," Pina said, brandishing the sword so it was pointed squarely at him, "there is no way whatsoever I could do that before your guards fill me full of holes. If that happens, the Saderan government descends into chaos, the relationship between the US, Japan, and Falmart is severely disrupted, and you get investigated by your government for attacking a head of state...and if more of your men come through that door, I will charge immediately."

"So… you're actually taking yourself hostage," Clayton clarified. "You should've said so in the first place."

"Don't patronize me!" Pina huffed. "Are you taking me to the island or not? I'll count to twenty in my head, then I'll attack you."

If he didn't move quickly, the Marines would add to the commotion outside, and Clayton didn't want that. He also wanted to avoid the diplomatic situation Pina had described, though he knew that neither Mahana's administration nor Congress actually cared who ran Falmart, as long as they continued to make money. It was a decent move, if not for the fact that Clayton knew that the DSS agents were wearing bulletproof armor under their shirts, and that the oncoming Marines could probably disarm Pina without killing her.

That said, the entire situation _had_ served to prove one thing. Pina was erratic, and that the safest place for her during the civil war was far, far away from anywhere she could give orders.

"Fine," Clayton said. "But you will not be allowed to take notes of any kind while you're over there, and your communication with Sadera will be monitored and censored. You will be our guest until the end of the civil war, and if we see you doing anything disruptive, you'll be locked away in the nicest prison on the continent. Is that clear?"

Pina nodded, a grin spreading across her face. "An honor doing business—"

"Shut up. Right now I need you to play along. Put the sword away, and confirm anything I say, got it?"

The Empress sheathed her sword. The DSS agents—after a second—put their weapons away as well and called off the Marines.

The argument in the hall was still ongoing when Clayton pushed the door open again, and was promptly interrupted by respectful bows and salutes once Pina made her appearance. "I have had a chance to talk to the Empress," Clayton said. "She will be coming with me to Ichijima, and will remain there for at least the next few weeks."

Sherry looked up from her curtsy and said, "Mr. Ambassador, surely I misheard. Her Highness is needed here to oversee the war."

"Her Highness will be working remotely," Clayton said. "State messages will be delivered through the Embassy at the Jade palace, and she will be available for voice communication when the satellites are overhead."

The countess's eyes narrowed. "You must forgive my saying so, but this sounds like a kidnapping."

Of course, Sherry wasn't as stupid as Pina. Furthermore, she had Sugawara to chime in with, "I must also point out that neither I nor Sherry has access to your island and no way to confirm that this isn't an American soft coup of the Saderan government."

Clayton smiled. "That's not true at all. Ichijima is a Joint Forward Operating Base, and JSDF General Kengun will be on hand later today to see to the Empress's accommodations and to assure that she has equal access to American and Japanese resources."

Of course, he hadn't discussed any of this with Kengun yet, though he suspected, based on his reaction at Yokosuka, that he wouldn't mind taking Pina out of the picture. "Besides," Clayton added. "Itami will be there too, and he wouldn't stand to have us mistreat her."

"Very well," Sherry said, then slowly and cautiously added, "And based on previously signed documents and laws, this makes me steward of Sadera until Pina returns."

 _Now who's accusing who of a soft coup?_ Clayton thought. "Certainly," he said. "I am sure that the Senate will be watching very carefully to see how you do."

But Sherry didn't seem satisfied with that answer. Did she suspect something? Eventually, she sighed, put on a bright smile, and concluded, "Then I wish her Highness best of luck on her trip!"

"Will the Rose-Knights be accompanying you?" Hamilton asked. Pina shot a pleading look to Clayton, who, trying to add his irritation, said, "Since you asked so nicely, Ms. Ror, you may come along if you follow us now. The rest of the Rose-Knights must remain here."

They moved as a group to leave, but before Clayton could depart, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned his head to see Sugawara standing there. "I don't know what you're planning," he said. "But whatever it is, we weren't told. Again. Japan can only accept so many breaches of trust before there are consequences, Mr. Clayton."

"My apologies, I'll be more candid with you from now on," Clayton said, brushing the hand away. "Don't have too much fun with Sherry while we're away."

As he walked away, he resisted the urge to look back at Sugawara for a reaction. He heard a few stifled chuckles from the guards though… and that was enough of a victory for him.


	15. Chapter 14: Descent

**Chapter 14: Descent**

 **Ichijima**

"Well!?" Ellie shouted at the open air. "I talked with Greta, and it solved nothing!"

She got no reply, or course, aside from strange looks from a few passing soldiers. She wasn't expecting one. Rory had already shown a preference for showing up when it was convenient for her to do so.

 _What am I supposed to do with all of this,_ Ellie wondered, and began to walk aimlessly away from the medical ward. _The Americans and Japanese have trapped us here, Greta might never fly again, and I'm being toyed with by a demigoddes. The world gets a say, but I get nothing._

What she wanted most was to take some control of her life back, even if it was something simple and stupid.

 _I want to fly_ , her heart cried.

 _You'll get shot down,_ her head responded.

Nonetheless, she found herself drawn to the island heliport and dirt airfield. There wasn't any inbound or outbound flights at the moment, and she began to wonder... _if I took off here, like the Ospreys, would they still shoot at me?_

She unfurled her wings, positioned herself for a running start, and then-

 _SKREEEEEEE_

She ducked at the shrieking roar as an airplane rocketed by overhead. Looking up, she saw the F-35, which ascended and banked left back over the ocean.

Considering the shape of the plane again, she wondered how the heck the thing stayed up in the air. After all the stubby, irregular wings lacked the long design of the MagThrees, the wide sweep of her own wings, or even the distinct, swept shape of the Japanese F-2. Yet, there was the plane, still flying, still capable of all kinds of crazy stunts.

Come to think of it, the design didn't look much more sensible than Greta's, which begged the question...why had the spaceplane failed while the American jet seemed to work just fine?

Looking to the side, she caught sight of the hangar where the remaining spaceplane was stored. No one was there now, of course. They would either be keeping watch over Greta or grieving with the rest of the aircrew. No one would stop her if she decided to go and take a peek for herself.

Minutes later, she was inside the hangar and flipping the switch to turn on the bright white Earth lights.

The remaining spaceplane sat where Ellie had seen it last, gear down, cockpit open. Since the _Freedom_ had crashed, the remaining one, she supposed, must be the _Independence._ She still had no idea what the English names meant, but snorted at them anyway and walked over for a closer look.

She hadn't paid much attention the first time that Greta had toured her around the spacecraft, but this time Ellie was looking at it with a technical eye, thinking about her own wings and own flight experience.

Whenever she wanted to recover herself from a spin, the trick was always to hold her wings out in a gliding shape, bend her legs away from the spin, and then push herself into a dive to regain controlled motion. As far as she had been able to see, Greta had done all of these things with the control surfaces of her spacecraft, so why hadn't it exited the spin?

She approached one of the wings and followed its delta-shape back to the elevators on the rear. There she reached up and traced a finger along the alternating blue and red dragon scales of the heat shield and wondered at how something with such a shape could stay up in the air. But then, what did she know about proper flight engineering? Greta had told Ellie that she shouldn't have been able to fly at all, due to the fact that her legs alone were too skinny to change the airflow—

Her eyes went up to the rudder.

It was squatter than the large vertical stabilizers she'd seen on the Japanese F-2s, C-1s, or even the MagThrees. This made some sense to Ellie, who was used to tucking in her wings during a dive. For a spacecraft like Greta's, which had a limited supply of exploding-air for propulsion, it was important to minimize the surfaces holding you back from getting up to high speeds.

She tried to envision what was going on by laying herself face-down on the concrete floor of the hanger and unfurling her wings. This would have been the rough aerodynamic situation of the plane on the way down, with the airflow going through the top of her head and down towards her feet. Imagining a right-handed spin, she brought her legs up to bend them, and then stopped.

 _No, that's not accurate_. The smaller vertical stabilizer and rudder would have meant less of it to catch the airflow, so she curled her knees up closer to her body, and imagined coming in for landing in this state.

Except, that would be silly, because when she flared and rotated for landing—

She sat up with a start. When Greta flared the plane to slow it down, the rear rudder would have been blocked by the body of the plane. Because no air could get to it, she had no way to counteract the rotation.

Ellie brought a hand up to her mouth as she realized that she had just figured out the situation that had almost killed Greta… but was it enough? If Greta were to try again, would she meet the same fate? There had to be a way to prevent it!

She ran for the side of the hangar and grabbed the ladder and platform on wheels. She was surprised by how lightweight it was, but quickly returned her attention to the problem at hand. A few seconds later, she had the cockpit hatch opened, and was sitting in front of the controls.

From the pilot's chair, the vehicle was slightly less cramped than it had appeared from the outside… but only slightly. The seats were more heavily cushioned than the ones on the MagThree or Osprey, and before her was a larger host of controls. She grabbed the control stick first and pulled it all the way to the left, envisioning the rudder moving somewhere behind her… but if that wasn't enough, what would be?

 _There's no air in space_.

Greta _had_ mentioned another way of controlling the yaw of the spacecraft... _Arr-see-ess?_ She looked over the side of the cockpit and found a second, smaller stick, and experimentally moved it slightly to one side…

And gave a startled jump when a port on the nose of the spacecraft emitted a loud _hiss_.

Up in space, the RCS motors helped to point the spacecraft in the right direction. Could they be used in the air to counter a spin? Perhaps not on their own, but as an addition to the rudder… maybe it would be enough.

But Greta hadn't known any of this. How could she? No one from this planet had ever had to perform control compensation on a rocket-plane with RCS motors before.

She pulled her legs up and stood to get out of the cockpit, only to suddenly find herself eye-level with Rory Mercury.

 _When? How?_ Ellie wondered. She hadn't heard the Apostle climbing the steps or jumping on the aircraft. Rory gave her a toothy smile just the same. "Mmmmm," she purred, "That's much better."

"What do you want?"

"The same things I've always wanted: to serve Emroy," the Apostle declared, "and to corner unaware people for fun and games. How about you?"

"Someone already died, and Greta's broken from all of this. I don't call that fun and games."

" _Eeeeeh?_ " Rory cocked an eyebrow. "Greta serves Emroy too, even if she won't say so."

"Greta's a scholar, she's a student of La. There's no way she's interested in a God of darkness."

Rory burst into laughter, flipped over Ellie's head and landed, with perfect balance, atop the vertical stabilizer of the spacecraft. Despite the force of the jump and the weight of her gear, the vehicle didn't move by even a millimeter. Spreading her arms and Halberd, she declared, "On this island, _everyone_ serves Emroy," then, cocking her head, added, "Well, except you. Until a few minutes ago, at least."

"I would never—"

"What _is_ darkness?" Rory asked. "Not the appearance of it, but the nature of it in people. What does it mean?"

"It means evil," Ellie started, "it means-"

"Oh, did you hold evil in your heart when you ran away from your mentor?"

"No, I-" she blinked. "How do you know about that?"

"I hear things," Rory said with a smile, leaving Ellie to wonder if the things she could here were things that were actually said, or things that Emroy had passed along to her. "Tell me about Andromache. Why did you leave?"

"I don't know anymore."

"Silly girl, I'm not asking why you feel that you left _now,_ I want you to say why you left _then._ "

"I left because I felt stuck," Elle said. "Because I couldn't stand being in one place anymore, and I had to go _somewhere_...so I decided…"

She had decided to go after the Night Triangle no matter what. Regardless of Andromache's orders, and regardless of the defense of the seaside town. Perhaps it wasn't evil, but it was undeniably selfish.

Ellie had then pursued that goal, despite what everyone around her had to say. That Americans were Evil, that Greta had vanished, that gaining an audience with the Earth people was impossible...all because she knew that she had to see it through.

Rory gave a satisfied sigh. "It's not darkness," she said. "Darkness is the part you see. If you think about it, Emroy is a God of _conviction._ "

"Conviction?" Ellie asked.

"When a person is willing to risk blood and limb and sanity in pursuit of a goal. Have you seen it, girl? The cold eyes, the grave voice, the mindless rush forward...that is why Emroy takes in warriors who chases glory, not those who are slain in fear. It's that twisted desire as one swings the sword, pursues the argument, pulls the trigger, or, in the case of the Americans, turns the key...to accomplish, to _commit._ " She giggled at a past memory. "That is true darkness, not this dreary idea of evil you're toying with."

"I _don't_ serve Emroy, I serve Flare."

"Oh, do you?" Rory flipped her Halberd around and pointed the pole end at Ellie. "How does the daily prayer go?"

Ellie hesitated. She had forgotten the exact order when trying to describe it to Greta, and with the end of a death dealing weapon in her face, her mind was racing too quickly to recall.

"I… I don't know the exact—"

Rory slammed the halberd into the ground of the hanger with a mighty _crunch_ that shattered the concrete. "Commit!" She shouted.

So Ellie began, unsure if the words were correct, throwing out the first verse like her life depended on it.

" _From horizon to horizon_

 _From the dawn unto midday_

 _Praise to Flare and all the heavens_

 _Ev'ry hour, ev'ry day."_

It was shaky, but with each line, she found herself feeling more comfortable. Perhaps it didn't feel like the words had come back to her, but they were still unconsciously there. How many times had she repeated them as a young child?

" _See the seasons see the changes_

 _As the world goes on its way_

 _Pass from night unto the morning_

 _And each hour and each day."_

It was a scenic sort of prayer, and as Ellie thought it over, it occurred to her that it was sort of like watching the passing of the day itself.

" _Tarry not upon the morning_

 _Else the daylight slips away_

 _Ev'ry second passed is precious_

 _Ev'ry hour, ev'ry day."_

Ellie stopped, and Rory raised an eyebrow at her. _What_ have _I been doing the past few days?_ She wondered. Sure, she'd spent a great deal of time worrying about what she ought to be doing, but she'd actually _done_ very little.

She took a deep breath and continued,

" _In the brightness of the moment_

 _Feel the warmth and don't delay_

 _As the sun grants you its blessing_

 _Of each hour and each day."_

She'd forgotten about that stanza. As a child, it had barely registered with her. She'd thought that, as a poem towards a sun god should be, it was about the sun.

But that wasn't true at all, she realized. The prayer was about _time._ How much you had, how it was spent, and a plea to do something with it all, and wonder at the fact that you had some ability to act upon the world...

...or, perhaps, to change it.

The last stanza came out as a whisper.

" _From horizon to horizon_

' _Til the twilight's on its way_

 _Praise to Flare and all the heavens_

 _Ev'ry hour, ev'ry day."_

The night before, on the beach, she had dismissed the idea of prayers and inspiration, but now, standing aboard the spaceplane, she wondered if the feeling in her gut came from herself, or if it really was some kind of divine intervention.

It didn't matter. She jumped back onto the scaffolding, raced down the steps to the floor, and rushed for the hangar doors. She didn't care if it was Emroy, or Flare, or Rory's delighted peal of laughter driving her forward at that point.

She knew what she had to do.

* * *

 **Conference Room, Ichijima**

It was a meeting long due, Kengun reflected as he watched the commotion on the far side of the room.

"Awww, he's adorable!" Pina squealed as she wiggled a finger at the baby in Arpeggio's arms.

As the baby cooed up at her, his mother added, "Of course. Itsuki doesn't take after his father at all. He's a good deal louder too," and sent Flat a teasing smirk.

By Pina, Itami's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Itsuki? You chose a Japanese name?"

"Of course!" Flat said, "When we move to Japan, we want to make sure that he fits in with his classmates once he's old enough for schooling."

"Schooling would be good," Lelei said simply. "That way, he can be smarter than Arpeggio too."

Arpeggio huffed, "Well, at least I found a man _and_ started a family. That puts me squarely ahead of you, sister!"

Kengun had raced to the island the moment that Clayton's message with the details had arrived. Sure, he had expected Sherry to make a move at some point, but to hear that Pina had gone so overboard because of it… he was happy that she was here under Itami's eye than in Sadera commanding armies. That wasn't to say that Sherry was much better, but at least she was free of the stupidity that seemed inherent in Emperor Molt Sol Augustus and his children.

Clayton himself was leaning against a wall next to him, scrolling through emails on a tablet computer and paying very little mind to the reunion, nor did he look up as Greta enetered, trailed closely by Hector. " _You're_ here!?" Greta cried upon seeing Pina. "Empress, I—"

"Whatever you're worried about, it's in the past," Pina promised. "I was worried that you wouldn't accept my invitation. When I heard you were here, I just had to know what had become of you." She looked down at Greta's right arm, which was immobilized in a sling. "Are you—"

"It's nothing," Greta lied. "It just means another year for me to redesign the cockpit so that the controls are on the other side of the vehicle, that's all."

"So your metal flyer, you actually built it!"

"I have! If they let me, I'll show you later..." she drifted off, then said, "I wish I could show it to Cicero. He would have been so excited."

"You heard, then?"

Greta nodded, her original smile drooping. "I can't believe Rondel would do that, after all we did for them."

"How goes the war?" Flat asked, overhearing the conversation.

Pina sighed and dropped into a chair. "Miserably. Sherry seems to think we'll lose."

That was an interesting perspective to Kengun, who was aware of the fighter aircraft situation above Alnus. He had been ordered to allot the Saderan forces regular air coverage of at least two fighters at all times. With eight fighters available at Alnus it was certainly doable...but it was wearing on the pilots and aircrews. More frustrating still, airborne reconnaissance was suggesting that Rondel was in the process of constructing a massive airfleet, and the topic of 'efficient combat' and 'best use of munitions' had come up several times in conversations with Kamikoda and his squadron mates. That said, even if the aircraft were limited solely by the number of bullets and missiles they carried, Kengun felt fairly confident that they could maintain a proper defense, even if Pina and Sherry doubted him.

Flat, at least, seemed surprised by Pina's answer. "Why?"

"They seem to have mastered air power, and have already attacked Italica from the sky by using Magic from MagThrees. It makes me wish that I'd asked the Imperial Aviation Group to invest more—don't say anything," she pointed at Greta, who, from the smirk on her face, looked like she was gearing up to declare, ' _told you so.'_

"Then force them out of the air," Lelei said, as if nothing could be simpler.

Pina shook her head. "Not possible."

"Ellie did," Hector pointed out, drawing everyone's attention. He introduced himself to Pina-name only-and said, "She managed to knock a Rondel airplane out of the sky by throwing its Focus Crystal overboard."

"We can't climb aboard each airplane and do that," Pina argued.

By this point, Clayton finally seemed to have picked up on what was going on and lowered his tablet. He and Kengun had jointly explained to Pina that commanding Imperials on the Island would result in imprisonment, and the conversation was getting dangerously close to that.

 _Then why allow this meeting to begin with?_ Kengun wondered. Surely, piing this many innovators in one room was bound to result in a conversation about the war, and the best weapons to fight it with. Did Clayton know and have a plan, or had he gotten tired from the busy past few days and failed to consider it?

"If only there was a way of doing it remotely," Greta pondered aloud. "But I'm an aerospace engineer, magic isn't my best subject. Lelei?"

The blue-haired mage gave no reply, obviously deep in thought. "Well," Arpeggio said with a huff. "If only there was an expert on Alchemy and Magical Minerals at the table."

Flat gave a despondent nod that was interrupted by a loud _thwack_. The astronomer gave a shrill cry and looked under the table, then back up at his wife before going, "What was that f-"

"Use that flimsy elf brain of yours before I kick you again, dear."

"Oh… OH!" Flat shot up out of his seat. "Alfie's area of study is magical minerals!"

Now Kengun was interested, not just in terms of deterring danger, but because Japan was still struggling with building a comprehensive Theory of Magic. He had attended a closed lecture on the mysterious SR-Phizons, a mysterious particle that allowed a person to influence materials on a subatomic level from a distance. Supposedly it was the driving force behind all magic, but they were incredibly hard to come by on Earth. Samples from the Special Region had to be transported in lead-lined cases out of fear of them being dispersed or decomposed by radiation sources. Actually controlling them was even more complicated, and while a classified group at Tokyo University had supposedly gotten a machine to produce a floating inch-wide ice crystal, they were a long way from perfecting the technology. It was impossible to determine if the Americans had gotten much further, and Kengun's attempts to wrestle details from Clayton had been as effective as conversing with a brick wall.

As such, he was interested to hear what the story was behind these Focus Crystals. Maybe it would help reveal the nature of magic and how to control it? Pina waved for Arpeggio to continue.

After handing her baby son to Flat, Arpeggio stood and said, "I don't like Focus Crystals. I didn't like them from the beginning, and I still don't like them now, and with good reason. Focus Crystals don't make a magician more powerful because they give them more magic. That's not how magic works. You can't just make more magical energy from nowhere."

Lelei nodded as if this made perfect sense. "Earth physics say that energy cannot be made or destroyed, only transferred."

"The extra magic has to be coming from somewhere else, right?" Greta asked.

"The Focus Crystals are attuned to pool the magic power across a wide group of magicians," she explained. "This power cycles back and forth between all the users very quickly, so that it gives the appearance that any one of them is a great magician, but the truth is that they are just sharing the greater whole. Just as a hundred men working as one could flip a hundred wagons, a hundred weak magicians working through attuned focus crystals can keep a fleet of magic gliders aloft."

Interestingly, it was Itami who seemed to pick up on it first. "That sounds like an Insurance plan," he said, then further elaborated. "On Earth, we have this thing called Insurance. Each person who uses Insurance pays a small amount of money, but in exchange the pot of money pays out a much larger amount if one of the insurance payers needs money to fix a big problem, like a crashed car, flooded house, or broken bone."

"It's close enough," Arpeggio said. "Anyway, the only reason why this relay works is because all the Focus Crystals are attuned to each other through the Aether. The right kind of spell can be used to break the connection, but..."

She balled both hands into fists, and stacked one atop the other. "Focus crystals are attenuated and disattenuated by a second, already-attuned crystal sitting above it. This is great, because it lets you attune an entire cart of crystals at the same time… but it won't help you here because Rondel will be above you, in airplanes. More importantly, the space beneath a Focus Crystal where this can occur is a cone, so even if you were to take the focus Crystal up on an Earth fighter jet, you would be limited by range. Also, there's an ongoing debate as to how well it works through metal."

Greta snapped the fingers of her good hand. "I'll take it to space!"

Everyone at the table shot her a bewildered look, so she ran over to a whiteboard, pulled the cap off a marker with her teeth, and drew a large upside-down U-shape. "I'll launch my spaceplane from here, traveling north towards Italica and Rondel."

Next, she pointed at the top of the U. "At apogee, I'll have the flight engineer use the onboard Focus Crystal to break attunement for the whole continent down below. What's the math for the cone? How much of an angle is the tip?"

Arpeggio held up her hands in a V-shape. After considering it for a moment, Greta said, "We'll call it 60 degrees. The edge of space is up at one hundred kilometers. That gives us…" she did some quick math calculations, "A one hundred sixteen kilometer cone base diameter. That's half the distance from Italica to Rondel."

"Isn't your spaceship made of metal though?" Pina asked.

Greta shrugged. "I'll flip the ship upside-down with the RCS thrusters and put the Focus Crystal next to a window." As if to illustrate the point, she dramatically scribbled down from the top of the U to the bottom of the board. "From there, it's just a question of timing the attack correctly. Since your army is on foot, we can calculate their rough position, and ask the Japanese to let us know when Rondel is attacking. That's your solution, right there, Empress. See? It's not as impossible as your advisor thinks!"

Pina's face lit up, then faltered as she said, "So it will be ready in a year or two."

"What do you—" it took Greta a moment to notice that the Empress's gaze had dropped to her dead forearm. "I... I guess you're right." She dropped into a chair, next to Pina.

"Then… we'll just have to do it some other way!" Flat declared. "We could hang it out of the back of a Japanese-"

"Denied," Kengun said. "Defense Minister Nomura has instructed me to keep this from getting any further out of hand. We will permit use of our equipment for transport and logistics, and allow use of fighter jets as far as it has been finagled out of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

Of course, the JSDF General didn't want this to be the case. He had always been an all-or-nothing person, and he recalled cheering in delight when the Americans had finally committed to the decapitation strike against Zorzal. If Japan wanted to, the fight vs Rondel could have ended as soon as it began… it still could, if they let him commit the remaining forces at Alnus to the campaign, and yet, again...

"Can America help us, then?" Flat asked.

Clayton gave a rueful grin. "Japan hasn't asked for our involvement outside of maintaining force parity with the Gods…so my position from the last time Pina and I negotiated this remains unchanged."

The room went very silent, and Kengun shot the American a dirty look. If the Americans wanted to, they didn't need to ask Japan to go intervene. They were waiting… probably so they could negotiate for the one thing they always wanted: unrestricted access to Falmart. In his peripheral vision, he could see Hector turn towards the American ambassador, suddenly attentive. _Did Clayton know?_ He wondered.

"It has to be my ship," Greta concluded. "It's the only way."

"You can't fly," Hector pointed out.

"I'll make do."

"You don't know what caused you to crash last time!"

Greta was about to rebuke him when a new, quiet voice said, "I'll do it."

Standing in the doorway to the conference room, looking nervous, but adamant, was Ellie.

"I'll fly your spaceship," she said.


	16. Chapter 15: Gear Down

**Chapter 15: Gear Down**

 **Ichijima**

Ellie could feel the panic welling up in her gut as she said the words, but now that they were out, there was no taking them back.

Across the room, Greta's eyes were locked on her, but she said nothing. "You're Ellie!" A woman with red hair exclaimed. "The Monarch defender of Italica, I've heard so much about—"

"You don't have to do this," Hector interrupted. "Ellie, if this is because of the crash—"

"This isn't because of the crash," Ellie said. "It's because this is something that I need to do. For myself, if not for everyone else."

She took a deep breath and continued, "I've… had time to think about it, and ever since the fight over Italica, I've been wasting time, just wandering around, hoping that some guide of what to do next would just show up, but it's been there the whole time. I started this whole thing because I wanted to know what the Night Triangle was, what it took to get up there, and what it might be like to see the world from a place like that. Dangerous or not, the only way that's going to happen is from the pilot chair of Greta's spaceplane.

"Am I scared? Yes. I'll be honest. I'm terrified. But if I let that hold me back, I'm going to be trapped here forever. Not just on this island, but in that way of thinking. That's why I've got to go. I've had enough of feeling stuck."

No one said anything for a few moments, then Greta stood and said, "There's other ways to get over that fear. I'll be honest, I've tried my best to create a spaceship, and it still crashed. You may die. Do you still want to go?"

Ellie had not broken eye contact for the entire conversation, and answered. "I know why you crashed, and I'm willing to deal with it. I think it's _worth it_. Don't you?"

A smile crept slowly onto Greta's face and she turned to face Pina. "I think you've just won the war, Empress."

An American man Ellie hadn't seen before stepped away from the wall, unfolded his arms, and said, "I'm sorry, this is ludicrous. Pina, our agreement was—"

"Our agreement was that I would not command anyone on this island to do anything on the Empire's behalf," Pina pointed out. "I just mentioned the idea; Arpeggio and Greta came up with a solution on their own. Whether or not they wish to carry it out is entirely up to them."

"It doesn't matter, it violates the spirit of the agreement."

"I don't recall agreeing to any spirits? Or are you starting to dabble in necromancy?"

The American didn't seem to find this funny. "I'm not having you commandeer the people on this island for the sake of weapons technology—"

"But it's not weapons technology," Greta said, with a grin. "I think the term you used for it seven years ago was _science experiment._ Right?"

Hector stood and approached the man. "If these people think they could accomplish it, why not let them? After all, it would save a lot of lives."

The American's lip twitched.

"You know I'm right."

But the Clayton stood firm, folded his arms, and said nothing.

"I don't understand you people!" Hector shouted. "How can you Americans accept so much bloodshed without blinking an eye? You have the ability to end it all here and now, and yet—"

"Hector El Sava," the American spat, "Do you know who I am?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Ellie saw Kengun's eyes suddenly go wide, and his hand drift down towards his sidearm. Around the room, American and Japanese guards seemed to have caught on to something, and were also reaching for their weapons. Sensing the rising tension in the room, Arpeggio hugged her baby close to her chest while Flat glanced around wildly. On the other side of the table, Greta looked down, unable to meet anyone's eyes.

"I am Robert Clayton, former Secretary of Defense to President Dirrel," the American said. "I was the one who decided to use the bomb. _I was the one who burned you and your men._ "

* * *

 **Rondel**

Dr. Nguyen picked through the wreckage of the ruined observatory, surrounded by guards who were still reeling from the events of two nights prior. There was very little to find—what few machines had been in the lab had either been melted into slag by thermite, or had been scattered all over the side of the hill by plastic explosives. With a huff he bent down and picked up a large piece of plastic, which turned out to be the front cover of Shirai's laser printer, charred to a nasty, bubbled black, but recognizable through the tiny metal "Kamigumi" logo still affixed to one side.

"Shirai, you ass," he muttered to himself. Wanting to fight for one's country, he could understand. Deception, he could understand. To leave so much evidence… to make a show of the escape? That was just obnoxious.

"Anything of use?" Chairman Delsus asked from over his shoulder.

Nguyen shook his head and tossed the panel back on the ground. "Everything useful has been destroyed. The Special Forces team that did this was thorough, which has me worried. It means that they had a plan for this raid, and had practiced it before doing it for real."

"If their attack is over, why is this a bad thing?"

"Because if they did it once for this little observatory, then they might also be practicing on a mockup of your Council Building," Nguyen pointed out.

Delsus folded his arms. "I have no concern. We have the guarantee of a god on our side. Plans have only so much power in the face of the Divine."

"You still don't believe they'll use the Atom Bomb again?"

"You told me yourself that Godwrecker usage is against cultural taboos on Earth, and that their usage of it against Hardy was unprecedented. Besides," he added with a smirk, "Even that did not kill the Gods. No man can. If they do use it, it will mean trouble, but it will not guarantee defeat."

"That didn't help you much over Italica."

Delsus waved the idea away. "The Saderan army is still twelve days march from Rondel, and we are just starting to see success from experiments against your old organization's wireless devices and radio handsets. In five or six days the air fleet will be ready, and we will wipe General Grey Co Aldo and his men from the map."

"And the Japanese planes?"

"So many questions. Are you starting to have second thoughts?"

Nguyen sighed. "What we are trying to accomplish has never been done before, not even on Earth. In the past, it was always a western air force using electronic disruption against a weaker state. This time, it's us trying to use electronic warfare against a modern air force."

"Then enlighten me, how close are we, and why do you think this will work?"

"It's impossible to say with certainty, but we're heading in the right direction," Nguyen said. "The fact that your mages have gone from redirecting light to actively jamming walkie-talkies and Wi-Fi routers shows that they're capable of it, but the problem is that military radios and sensors operate on different frequencies than civilian ones… sorry if I seem like a pessimist to my own plan. That said, I _do_ think this will work because the objective of the operation is to destroy the Saderan force, not shoot down the JASDF. Their fighter jets are built for computer-aided, missile-based combat versus other fighters moving at similar speeds, not dozens and dozens of smaller, slower aircraft in a guns-only fight. If what you've told me about the state of the Imperial Senate is true, then wiping out the Saderan ground force would be functionally the same as a death blow to Sadera itself. Pina would lose support for the war, and Rondel would be free to separate from the Empire."

The doctor picked up another object, a soot-covered sliver which, on closer inspection, turned out to be part of the telescope's refracting mirror. In it, he could see the barest reflection of himself. If he made it through this ordeal alive and got the prize he desired, would the people of Earth understand? Would they see the worldwide benefit, or would they lock him up or cast him out? Surely Shirai had already reported on his betrayal, so prison time was not entirely out of the question… but that was alright, just as it did not matter to him who won the oncoming battle.

 _As long as I get what I want,_ he thought, and tossed the mirror aside.

* * *

 **Ichijima**

The room had started to clear out.

Pina had been directly requested to leave, and the others had gotten the message soon afterwards. The last of the natives to go was Ellie, who Greta pushed along with her one good hand. She knew what was about to happen, Clayton supposed.

He had been informed about Hector ten minutes after the database at Italica station flagged him as being from Carenth. A quick glance at his ID card picture immediately confirmed that he was a survivor of the nuclear blast. When McKann had asked Clayton for his opinion regarding allowing Hector onto Greta's project, he had approved immediately for three reasons; first, so that the one survivor of the bomb in Falmart wouldn't start spreading ideas about the bomb or causing civil disruption, second so that the Navy medics could pin down the effects of serious or prolonged radiation on magic users, and third… so that their chances of running into each other would be near-zero. Clayton rarely visited Ichijima, and if it weren't for Pina, he would never have walked into the same room as the man who was now standing across from him.

If everything had gone according to plan, they wouldn't be talking now either. In Clayton's head, Greta and Pina were supposed to make up, coo over Arpeggio's baby for a few minutes, then retreat to their respective lives. After that, Japan and America would be called upon to mop up Rondel after Pina's army was slaughtered, and the fine people at Boeing, Mitsubishi, and Lockheed Martin would earn their paychecks for the year. Instead, everything had been overturned by the Pentagon's greatest fear: an unknown. Focus Crystal samples had arrived at Brookhaven National Laboratory in New York 48 hours after the first ones appeared in shops at Alnus, yet the chemists there were confounded by what, at first study, appeared to be nothing more than oversized amethyst shards. Furthermore, their newness meant that mages already under observation by the United States would shrug when asked to explain how one worked; it was like asking most Americans to explain an internet communication protocol. In the years since, Focus Crystals had been down-prioritized in favor of more important projects, like ADMIT FUSCHIA. As such, no one could have guessed that there was a way to effectively weaponize them.

Of course, now that Clayton knew how, he'd pass the information along to DARPA, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the conversation was supposed to end with him walking out of the room without ever talking to Hector, and not having to acknowledge the moral quandary that had been eating away at him since the meeting at Yokosuka. Instead, the warrior-magician from Carenth had him pinned, and Clayton, unable to stand it any longer, had placed the ball firmly in Hector's court. The mage would decide how he wanted the conversation to go.

Hector hadn't said a single word as the room emptied out. Some DSS guards remained, but the conference room was otherwise empty. Now functionally alone, Clayton said, "Well?"

The mage's face twitched, he tensed up, and said, "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit down and shut up or I swear I will rip your jaw out and beat you to death with it."

The security agents already had their weapons drawn, so Clayton didn't care much for the threats. He could have pushed the matter, but he wasn't in the mood, so he circled around the conference table and sat down.

Hector took the seat directly across from him, and Clayton began to suspect the real reason for the request. With the table between them, it would be harder for them to go to blows. As a magician, Clayton supposed that Hector could still attack him at range… but the armed guards around the room would make short work of him if he tried.

Ultimately, Hector's next sentence was the one that Clayton feared most, yet the only one he'd been expecting to hear. "Why?"

In response, Clayton spat out the same thing he'd rehearsed a dozen times before delivering to President-Elect Mahana in the last week of Dirrel's administration. "Use of the nuclear weapon in the Special Region was prompted by two main points—the need to dispose of the weapon, and the need to strike back at the gods for the action on Alnus Hill. Ancillary to this, we had intercepted a message regarding an invasion fleet from Carenth—"

"Stop," Hector spat. "Again. No diplomatic language."

Clayton balled one fist on the table, took a deep breath and started again. "We wanted to remove the threat from Carenth, and we happened to have a weapon lying around that could do that as a secondary objective. So we did."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"And you knew what it would do?"

"Generally. It was twenty years since we'd ever tested one. Fifty years since we'd used one aboveground. Seventy years since we'd used them in combat. First time we ever used an ICBM to do it."

"You knew what would happen to our bodies if you struck us with that _thing_."

"We missed on purpose."

Hector's eyes narrowed.

"We targeted a place miles away from your fleet," Clayton said. "If we had targeted King Selecus directly, you would have been annihilated."

"We _were_ annihilated."

Clayton shook his head. "You don't understand. If we had hit directly, the bay would be gone."

"You mean all of the men—"

"No, _the bay_ ," Clayton pressed, his voice low. "The entire goddamn bay would have been pulverized into glass and sand. There wouldn't have been anything left of you to find."

Hector's lip twitched again and he looked away for a moment… but just a moment. "You didn't answer my statement. You knew what would happen to us."

Clayton nodded.

"So, _why?_ "

The ambassador raised an eyebrow. "Are you looking for a moral answer?"

"I s-"

" _BECAUSE IT'S FUCKING WAR!"_ Clayton was on his feet again, a dull throbbing in his hand from the palm that he hadn't even realized he'd slammed down on the table. "What were you expecting from me? Some villain monologue? _Fuck that!_ There's nothing moral about committing to killing other people!"

One of the DSS agents coughed and Clayton caught himself. _That was unprofessional_ he thought, but at the same time, he felt that he needed to say it. How else could he justify either of the two options America would take once Palapon attacked? "If you're looking for a satisfying 'why', you will never find it." he said. "At the end of the day, it was me, the President, and a call that had to be made. I'd tell you to imagine my position, but…" he shrugged. "You weren't there."

To his surprise, Hector seemed to deflate a little at that last phrase. "I wasn't there," he muttered, and raised a hand to the scarred side of his face, "and neither were you."

He sat like that for a moment, in thought, then said, "It is funny, I suppose. I have spent weeks chiding Ellie about her immaturity, but I think she figured it out faster than I did."

Clayton didn't know what to say, and watched one side of the mage's mouth curl upwards into a grin. "She caught me at the beginning too… wondering what I was waiting for, why I hadn't tried to move on or move forward. I envied her for that; how young people can make it look so simple to just pick up and change. And even when she struggled, she still managed to take my own words and throw them back in my face. I followed her, curious where she'd go with it, but never believed that it would succeed in leading me here."

Hector stood. "I suppose you're right," he said. "There is no good _why_ to any of this…. Just how it affects what comes next."

"Does that mean you're going to kill me?" Clayton asked.

The mage shook his head. "That was the original plan, but there's not much point in it now, is there?"

"It might make you feel better."

"Neither of us were in the others shoes, and we both need to live with what we saw and did. I think that's enough." He reached a hand across the table.

Clayton did not take it.

"I was told that in your culture, a taking of hands is a sign of greetings, departures, and friendship?"

"I can't take it because I'm going to have to make the same choice again." Clayton said. "I have already been asked to decide between the atom bomb and another devastating option. How can I shake your hand and then proceed to do it all over again?"

Hector let his hand fall. "Then let me at least ask this," he said. "Of the options you have, is there one that will set this world free?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is there an option that will remove or reduce the ban on Earth technology?" Hector said. "I've seen your mechanical wonders in Italica and Alnus and here on this island… there's so much good that could come from it. If… if one of your choices is the weapon that can let the wonders of our world and your world coexist, as they do in Greta's spaceplane, I want you to use that. If there must be that much destruction, _something_ good ought to come out of it."

This time, Clayton sat back down. He recalled all of Secretary Barton's warning about ADMIT FUSCHIA, but _could_ it fulfil Hector's request? With a device like that, it wouldn't matter what technology the Special Region obtained, nor would it matter if China or Russia or non-state actors obtained magic of their own.

But would they all be willing to accept that world?

Perhaps there never would be a permanent peace, but maybe Hector had a point. Any peace, even a strained one, ought to be leveraged while it lasted.

"I'll take it into consideration," he said. "Tell Greta that she has America's blessing on her… 'science project'."

Hector nodded, turned, and headed for the door, but was stopped as Clayton shouted after him, 'And Hector?"

The mage looked back over his shoulder.

"Come back in one piece, and we'll decide then if my hand's still worth shaking."

* * *

 _Author's note_

My sincerest apologies if this seemed like a dull chapter. In compensation, I promise lots of action and cool weapons in the next two. See you there!


	17. Chapter 16: Final Approach

**Chapter 16: Final Approach**

 **ONE WEEK LATER**

The award for 'deadliest object in the sky of Falmart' had undergone a rapid evolution in the past several years.

At first, the title had belonged to its longest holders, the Great Elemental Dragons, like those of Fire and Ice. Within a year after the JSDF came through Alnus, this position was handed over the McDonald Douglas F-4 Phantom II, which held it for only a few years before surrendering it to the newer Mitsubishi F-2 Viper Zero.

But despite the fact that Kurihama adored his multirole fighter, he would have been mad to admit that it could stand up to the plane flown by his flight lead, Major Kamikoda.

At first glance, it would have been understandable to mistake the aircraft as an American F-22 Raptor, but an observant aviation enthusiast would be quick to point out the difference in shape of the thrust-vectoring mechanism. The truth was that it wasn't an American plane at all—it was a Japanese Mitsubishi F-3. The F-3, or "Shin-shin" as it had been known during testing, could match its American counterpart for speed, and what it lacked in armor, it made up for in effective combat radius. The Japanese interceptor was designed to operate at long distance over the ocean to strike at targets over the Asian mainland and on the Korean Peninsula, which made it a great option for sorties out of Alnus, considering as Alnus itself had the only paved runway on the continent.

Where the plane did _not_ exceed the F-2 was in its radar array. While version of the aircraft based in Japan used the newer J/APG-3, Kamikoda's plane was using an old J/APG-2, just like Kurihama's. The excuse at the time had been, "What, did you need to target threats more than two hundred kilometers away? The attack range on those dragon things is eighty meters at most. You'll live with the old system."

Despite that, Kurihama wished that he had access to the greater range of the newer system. The Rondel Mag-3s weren't that hard to take down, but the intelligence reports cited nearly a hundred planes under construction. Real life wasn't like an Ace Combat game, he had eight missiles at his disposal, and the 800 rounds of ammunition would last his 6000rpm Vulcan gun about eight seconds—three or four pulls of the trigger if he was careful about the timing. This meant that the sooner they detected the Rondel air fleet, the sooner more aircraft could be scrambled from Alnus.

Even then, fighters like the F-3 and F-2 were designed to operate in a Jet Age combat zone, where the enemies in the sky and on the ground were limited by the number of expensive planes they could fly, and expensive Surface to Air Missiles they could launch. Command was asking him to potentially be the tip of the spear in a Battle of Britain style furball where he could attack a maximum of twelve times before being forced to retreat. Kamikoda's pleas to bomb the Rondel wings before they took off were met by a red-faced general Kengun who had initially shouted back, "I know! I know, damn it! If the Defense Ministry was in control of this operation instead of the Foreign Ministry, we'd also have a line of Type 87s following the Saderan ground force, but this is what we have been assigned!"

The alternative, which had emerged two days later, wasn't much better. They would rely on some kind of magic-EMP weapon fired at high altitude by a spaceplane to forcibly ground entire the Rondel force. Kurihama heard that Kamikoda had flown out to Ichijima to see with his own eyes that this technique wouldn't affect Earth aircraft, and had returned to Alnus looking unconvinced. "There is too much that can go wrong with this plan," he had growled at the time. "I would give up half my vacation days for solid friendly triple-A on the ground."

"Just half?" Kurihama had countered, then ducked quickly enough to dodge the flight plan aimed at his face.

Now, as they floated over the Saderan army below, Kurihama heard the noise he'd been dreading, the buzz of the radio and the call of, "Alnus ATC to Hawkwind Squadron, we have a mission update."

 _Please be scouting or an RTB order,_ Kurihama thought, but knew in his gut that it wouldn't be.

"Go ahead," Kamikoda said.

"Forward recon reports that the Rondel air fleet has taken off. ETA, thirty minutes."

 _Shit._ "Bearing?" Kamikoda asked.

"Two-nine-zero. What's your fuel situation?"

"Hawkwind 01, I'm fine."

"Hawkwind 02," Kurihama said, "I'll be dropping my tanks before the engagement."

"Understood. Hawkwind 03 and 04 will be over ASAP, and we're working on getting Razorbill Squadron closed up, rearmed, and refueled. Current estimate, forty-five minutes. We're also putting out a call to the Americans, but whether or not they send their F-35 is up to them…and it would need to get to you from Ichijima."

"I copy two fighters in a few minutes, four fighters in an hour, and a big American 'maybe'," Kamikoda replied. "We'll keep an eye out. Kurihama, drop down and let the Imperials know."

* * *

General Grey Co Aldo watched the Japanese fighter jet swoop down in front of his men, waggle its wings, then ascend back up into the open blue sky.

When he had been asked to train Pina and the other members of the Rose Guard so many years ago, war had seemed simpler. Slower. Armies took months to get from place to place, a weapon was made of two, maybe three components at most, and air power consisted singularly of wyverns, which functioned best as battlefield scouts and messengers. The only fast part was the melee when two armies finally collided, which came down to skill with a sword and a little bit of luck.

The people from Earth seemed to treat everything as a melee. Information seemed to zip around instantaneously, soldiers and supplies appeared on the enemy's doorstep overnight, and if you were stupid enough to draw a sword against the Japanese or Americans, you would hear a loud _bang_ and be in Hardy's or Emroy's embrace two seconds later.

The message sent by the Efftoo was a strange juxtaposition of these two worlds. A message sent by Japanese scouts near Rondel probably traveled to that plane in seconds, yet here it was, waggling around like an old wyvern to get the point across to him.

Still, it was not a signal he wanted to see. A loop was supposed to indicate an approaching ground force. The waggling, an air force. A roll would mean a little of both.

Against a Rondel air force, Grey had few options, including four wyvern scouts and a new trick developed by the Imperial Aviation Group. He would have liked to have the support of Saderan or even Italican Mag-3s overhead, but without a fast way to call them, they would arrive too late to be of much use.

Even with the support of the JASDF, he expected to come out of the battle with serious casualties. He wouldn't go down without a fight though.

The General turned to one of his captains and said, simply, "Ready the missiles."

* * *

 **Ichijima**

Ellie's head jerked up at the alert sirens which were now sounding all over the island.

Greta, sitting across the table from her, said, "Air Squadron scramble alert. We hear them from time-to-time—"

But her argument was interrupted by McKann, who burst into the cafeteria and shouted, "Greta, Ellie, that's you!"

The fork fell out of Ellie's hand. _Now?_ She thought. Ellie had been hoping for more warning, or more time in general. She felt her gut clenching out of nerves and for a terrifying moment thought that she would throw up her late lunch.

Across from her, Greta stood, asking, "Is the carrier already on the runway?"

"Yes, yes, and they're bolting your spaceplane into position now." McKann helped Ellie to her feet, and in what felt like seconds they were in a Humvee racing for the island airstrip.

Ahead, she could already see her ride, the _Independence_ being raised into position underneath the carrier aircraft. Unlike the first time, where the ground team was mostly made of natives, this time the team around the aircraft had the added support of Japanese and American personnel. Greta had been just as surprised as Ellie when they showed up the first morning after the plan was set.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be involved in the war?" Hector had asked at the time.

"Modifying the pilot chair for a Monarch is not involvement in the war," the Seabees had said.

"Installing a programmable digital chronometer is not involvement in the war," the JMSDF had said.

"Performing pressure and valve checks on your life support system is not involvement in the war," the USAF mechanics had said.

"Japan agreed to offer logistics support," Kengun had answered with a shrug, and McKann simply gave a knowing smile.

Two members of the ground crew were already helping Hector into his space suit. On seeing the two women arrive, he gave them a curt nod of greeting, then allowed a Japanese soldier to assist him to the boarding ladder.

Ellie's gear was waiting for her, and Greta helped her into it personally. Since Ellie was a head shorter than Greta and had large wings sticking out of her back, her suit had been constructed in a hurry, with the two Earth militaries, again, offering to speed some aspects up with their machinery. Even so, the spacesuit was uncomfortable; itchy and hot on the inside, and they had a tendency to stink on warmer days. Despite having spent hours in one during training flights and on the ground, Elle had to fight against a spike of panic as the back of the suit closed around her wings.

"Just remember what I told you," Greta was saying, "Slow, deliberate motions, keep your eyes focused on the instrument panel, and deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. We don't want you throwing up while you're trying to fly."

"Not going to happen," Ellie said, "Monarchs don't puke easily." Even so, a Navy Corpsman handed her a sticky patch, supposedly with some kind of anti-nausea medicine, which she slapped onto her arm. Finally, she was handed a small electronic device that clipped over her ear, just as Greta donned a similar device and said, "Comm check, one, two three—"

"I hear you," Hector replied from inside the spaceplane. "Almost buckled in. Don't take too long out there!"

Suit now fully on, Ellie was about to climb aboard herself when Greta shouted at her, "One more thing!" and went to stick something into one of the suit pockets. "You can check it when you're up in the air!"

Before Ellie could ask anything else, the ground team was ushering her up the ladder and into the pilot's seat of the spaceplane. Shortly after, the seatbelt was fastened, the air supply was connected, and the last member of the team, one of the Mage-Engineers from the carrier craft, shook her hand before pulling up the hatch and sealing them in. Ellie reflected on the gesture a moment—it was much like this spacecraft, in its own way. New world ideas, being incorporated by old world people.

"Well," Hector muttered from behind her, "We're on our way."

"An old soldier like you, nervous?" Ellie chided.

Hector laughed. "If you think adults never get nervous, you have much to learn, girl."

They felt the plane lurch, and out of the tiny portholes Ellie could see the airstrip beyond start to move as the carrier aircraft prepared for takeoff.

As Hector had said, they were, indeed, on their way.

* * *

On the beach across from the airstrip, Clayton watched as the carrier aircraft with its payload, the first Falmartian native-built spacecraft, raced down the runway and slowly lumbered into the air.

Next to him, Arpeggio followed its path up into the air with a set of heavy binoculars. "Remarkable!" she declared. "With lifting power like that, we could fly whole groups of people from Sadera to Italica and back. No more wyverns, no more cramped Mag-Threes!"

Clayton smirked at the statement. Surely spaceplanes and groups of people weren't the only thing that could be carried by such an aircraft. It was also the path towards heavy bombers...or paratrooper carriers. No one had ever gone back to retrieve the parachutes from the JSDF raid on Sadera (back when Zorzal was in power) and he frequently wondered what had happened to them.

"There's not much else to see," he said. "We should get back to the radio."

Next to her, Flat adjusted the position of the baby in his arms. "If only we could watch them go all the way up."

"Someday." Clayton gestured to them, and together they made their way to a tent that had been set up on the beach.

Inside, Kengun leaned over a JGSDF radio operator who was quietly managing traffic from two different channels; one from the aircraft about to be engaged in the battle, the other a downlink from the _Independence_. One of the radio channels sputtered to life, the voice of Alnus ATC calling, "ETA Rondel airfleet, five minutes."

Kengun backed away so that the couple could get closer to the radio and joined Clayton a few steps back. "We've done all we can," he said. "Now there is just the flight and the battle."

"I'm sure Nomura and Tokyo have gotten back to you on their odds," Clayton said.

"Of course."

"What did your people estimate?"

"Fifty-fifty…yours?"

"Ames and Langley gave them a one-in-four. NASA-Armstrong upped it to one-in-three."

"I never realized NASA was made of pessimists."

"Half a century of under-funding tends to do that. Are you ready to intervene if they fail?"

Kengun grimly nodded and countered, "Are _you_ ready to intervene if they _succeed?_ "

Out of the corner of his eye, Clayton observed the one other occupant of the tent. Rory Mercury stood off to one side, casually examining her nails as she leaned against the pole of her giant halberd. The truth was, there were _three_ communication devices in the tent. If Palapon made his move, Clayton needed someone to relay his bargain.

As for what that bargain would be… he checked his cellphone again. No response from Barton. There had been no acknowledgement of his subtle request, _That thing we discussed at Yokosuka… I choose that option._ ADMIT FUSCHIA would either be approved and ready for use on time, or he would need to go with the original plan.

Six Midgetman launchers. Three nuclear warheads. A combined one thousand, five hundred kilotons of devestation. Enough firepower to crush both sides of the Sadera-Rondel conflict if they so desired, but in this instance, hopefully enough to make a vengeful god stop and rethink his options.

As for which he'd use...he didn't know. All he could do was wait.

* * *

 **10,000ft ASL, Northwest of Italica**

Much to Kurihama's appreciation, the other two members of Hawkwind squadron arrived in time for Alnus ATF to give their five-minute warning. It was just enough time for Kurihama to run one more assessment of the airspace before Kamikoda announced, "I have them on my radar, you should be seeing them soon!"

Kurihama watched his radar scope, and sure enough the target queuing system registered its first target. Then another, then three more. A dozen. Thirty. Fifty. Around a sixty three the queuing system began to flicker. He tapped it a few times, hoping it would solve the issue before deciding the system had been designed for Earth aerial engagements, and the idea of a single plane managing so many targets without AWACS support was unheard of. The designer of the radar queuing system had probably set the queue as a six-bit integer, which Rondel was now flooding with sheer force of numbers.

"Okay everyone," Kamikoda called. "This is our chance. Uplink to me and ready AMRAAMs."

A few button presses and Kurihama's plane was ready to fight the 21st century way. Kamikoda's targeting computer would control all of the missiles across multiple planes, select targets, and fire them all together. Kurihama liked the idea, a volley of missiles all launched at once, but knew with certainty that it wouldn't be enough.

"Hawkwind squadron, engaging," Kamikoda called. "Hawkwind squadron, Fox Three!"

Kurihama more heard the collective shriek as the weapons ripple-fired from underneath his plane, and together a cloud of thirty-two missiles raced for the enemy. The Rondel pilots, who were still miles and miles away and without radars of their own, would have no idea that the missiles were coming until they saw the vapor cloud reaching for them out of the heavens. He adjusted the collar on this flight suit and squinted towards the enemy position, waiting for the explosions.

There were none.

"… uh, Major?" Kurihama asked.

"Stand by," Kamikoda grunted. The strain was apparent in his voice.

Still no sign of an explosion.

Finally, a flash! Then another. Two more.

But that was all.

Finally, the flight lead confirmed the nightmare that had been on Kurihama's mind. " _Missed._ "

"Twenty-eight AMRAAMs all missed!?" Kurihama yelled. "How!?"

Which was when he noticed that the flickering on his radar array had worsened. Now some targets were disappearing entirely, whereas elsewhere whole pockets of them appeared at once.

Kurihama suddenly realized what had happened. "ECM!" he shouted.

"What?"

"They said in the mission brief that Rondel was told about our radar system, right? They're using magic the same way we use Electronic Countermeasures. The missiles have been spoofed!"

* * *

"Three minutes to drop. How are you doing in there?" Greta called out to the spaceplane crew. Ellie knew that the aerospace engineer was sitting aboard the twin-hulled carrier aircraft, just as she had on most of the training flights, and that she was wearing a larger, bulkier headset so she could be heard over the sound of the airflow. Ellie wished she could see her, but the tiny glass openings severely limited her field of view.

"Fine so far," Ellie called back, and Hector added, "Any word from the ground?"

"ATC Ichijima says the battle has started," Greta replied. "That means it's all up to us… oh that reminds me. You can check your pocket now, Ellie."

Ellie looked down, pulled out the object, and even through the viewing glasses of the suit, she could see the tell-tale figures of the postcard of the X-15. "That's supposed to stay with you!" Ellie exclaimed.

"I want to give Carol something that's been to Space," Greta explained. "I'm confident in my engineering, and I know this may sound silly, but it's the only usual thing I didn't have on me during the crash. Maybe it's lucky?"

"I wasn't aware Earth airplane design relied on luck," Hector said. The smirk was audible, even over Ellie's headset.

"Funny story," Greta said. "Carol once told me about a bunch of NASA engineers working to land a machine on their moon. Their first two attempts exploded on the way up. The next four either missed their moon or crashed into it. By the seventh time, they were really nervous, so the Flight Director passed out peanuts to everyone to keep them distracted while the machine worked on its own to land. This time, the landing succeeded. In the decades since, NASA's technology has gotten better, and their engineers remain the most well-informed in their world… yet every probe mission since, right before its critical phase, sees a large and conspicuous jar of peanuts passed around Mission Control."

Ellie burst out laughing. It was too perfect—that image of the Earth people, brilliant technicians as they were, still relied on superstition when there was nothing else they could do. Which begged the question, "What's a peanut?"

This time it was Greta's turn to chuckle. "I'll show you when you get back. Thirty seconds to release!"

"One more question," Hector called out. "The English name for this ship, the one from the moving-picture show, what's its name in our language?"

"Independence," Greta translated for them. "The ability to control your own life, your own fate. Twenty, nineteen..."

 _Control of one's fate_. Ellie liked that idea, especially after all that she'd been through. "Quite a name," Hector said. "It must have been quite the ship."

"...fifteen, the one from _Armageddon?_ It crashed into a space rock. Broke into a hundred pieces! Eight! Seven…"

Ellie didn't need to see the look on Hector's face to know the grimace he was probably sporting at that moment. She wrapped her fingers around the control stick, locked her eyes onto the flight instruments, and took a deep breath.

"Four—good luck!—two, one, release!"

Ellie felt it in her stomach as the spacecraft dropped away, and then was pressed back into her seat as Hector started the first wards.

"First four wards online," Hector reported. "Preparing five… six…"

The spacecraft pressed forward ever faster and Ellie began to experience the same sensation she felt while flying through a high-speed turn or pulling out of a dive. Greta had warned her about techniques for staying conscious during what she called "high-G maneuvers", but Ellie was so familiar with the techniques from her own flight experiences that it was namely Hector she was worried about. "Are you alright?" She called back to him and got a strained grunt in reply.

About a minute later, her view out the tiny windows was interrupted by a flash of white vapor, and the roaring wind from outside the spacecraft vanished in favor of the low rumbling as the vehicle shook on its ascent. It had taken Ellie a whole day to wrap her head around the concept of 'speed of sound' when Greta had first introduced it, but it did not register with her until that moment. _I'm going faster than any living thing from this world's skies has ever gone before_ , she realized.

Two minutes more and the controls became unsteady in her hands. She leaned forward and checked the dial on the Earth machine in front of her. "Thirty thousand feet," she reported, knowing that no one on the ground would be able to reply. "Starting rocket engine now. Go for it, Hector!"

Ellie had watched Hector practice the maneuver of fluidly switching over from air-breathing wards to exploding air on the ground, but it was quite another to feel it. For one terrifying moment, the acceleration vanished and she was flung forward against her seatbelt. A fraction of a second later, the loud roar that had been missing for the past few minutes returned with new fury, slamming her back into her chair.

"Ignition!" She gasped into her helmet microphone, and she started the battle to keep the craft balanced atop a growing tower of fire.

* * *

Kurihama slammed the side of his cabin wall with his right knee as he turned the plane for another pass.

There were still nearly eighty Rondel aircraft bearing down on the Saderan army, and with only three good trigger pulls per plane, Hawkwind squadron needed to hit three or more planes with each machine gun burst if they were to hold out until Razorbill squadron or the Americans arrived… more if they hoped to save the Saderans below. He would have gladly traded his 12 billion yen jet aircraft for his great grandfather's A6M Zero with its slower speed and rate of fire. Instead…

There was a bright flash in his cockpit and he pulled up and to the side again. It was clear that whomever had thought out the Rondel strategy knew at least some of what they were doing. Whenever he slowed his fighter down in an attempt to acquire a group of targets, the Rondel mages would blast flashes of light in the direction of his plane. Even with his sun visor down, the attacks were bright, distracting, and would probably would have counted as Dazzler weapons back on Earth. His radar scope wasn't much better, still clearly confused by the bad signals coming off of the Rondel air fleet.

And then Kurihama saw it; a group of five aircraft in a neat diagonal line. He rolled his aircraft into position for a pass, called, "Guns, guns, guns!" and pulled his joystick trigger.

The gunport tucked just behind him on the left wing leapt to life,

 _BRRRRRRR_

For just less than a second, a line of grey death crossed the few hundred meters between the F-2 and its targets, and each Mag-3 crumpled under the hail of 20mm rounds. "Targets hit," Kurihama called, flipping the jet upside down as he passed over the falling debris. "That's—"

His helmet blasted a loud beeping noise, and years upon years of training caused him to jerk the aircraft left and thumb the chaff switch as he glanced up and over, trying to spot the SAM—

 _Wait, what?_

Rondel didn't have radar-guided missiles… and his F-2 wasn't loaded with chaff or flares. _Something_ had triggered his missile lock alarm.

"They're playing guessing games!" Kamikoda shouted over the squadron channel. "Rondel's trying every frequency they can because they don't know which one is radar! Hold fast!"

Kurihama watched as his flight lead's F-3 zoomed low past a group of Rondel planes, causing them to momentarily lose control as they were buffeted by the sonic shockwave of the passing jet. _The fuel isn't going to last forever_ , he thought. _If the Ichijima group is going to try their EMP trick, they need to do it soon!_

* * *

"Pressure dropping," Hector called out. "Burn ending… now!"

The rumbling explosion ceased, and Ellie could feel the pressure on her dropping, until…

Greta had described this moment several times, each time with wide-eyed excitement, but it wasn't until Ellie drifted out of her chair that her mouth dropped open in awe. She wasn't moving her wings, the space plane wasn't under its own power, and yet… she was _floating_.

Grabbing onto the side of her chair to steady herself, she watched the number on the altitude dial continue to climb. The final moment when the number passed 100 on the Japanese dial, and 330 on the American dial was almost anticlimactic in comparison, but the point was still the same.

They were in Space.

Behind her, Hector remained silent. The construction of Ellie's spacesuit and its connection to the air supply meant that she couldn't turn around to see the look on his face, so she said, "Okay, this is where it gets interesting. I'm going to use the RCS thrusters now and roll us so that the… so that the planet is above us. Are you ready?"

"...yes," his voice was weaker than she'd expected. Was something wrong with him, or…? "Yes…, ah, yes. Right. Sorry. I was distracted. Go ahead."

 _It was awe!_ Ellie realized. For once, the immovable old geezer had been faced with an aspect of technology that properly excited him! Feeling a grin of her own forming on her face, she said, "Okay, starting the roll."

Carefully, so as not to strike the controls in an unexpected way, Ellie reached out and placed her hand on the RCS lever. Just as she'd been shown, she twisted her wrist and the controls to the right.

Nothing happened.

* * *

"So they made it!?" Flat excitedly exclaimed, nearly squashing Arpeggio's shoulders in excitement.

The JSDF communications officer pointed up at the readout on one of his displays. The _Independence_ was still climbing, but the rate of ascent was slowing down. "The number we were hoping for was a hundred kilometers," Kengun explained. "That's the Karman line, the point at which the vehicle leaves the atmosphere and enters what we consider to be Space."

"Then how long until we know if the trick with the Focus Crystal worked?" Arpeggio asked.

"They only have a few minutes up there," Flat said. "It can't be more than that, right?"

Behind them, a quiet Clayton checked his cellphone again. _No response._

If he didn't hear from Barton soon, he would need to begin preparations for the alternative… but if Ellie and Hector failed to take out the Rondel forces, then it would be Kengun making the call… one which would result in a flood of aircraft and equipment from Alnus towards Rondel to make up for the slaughtered Saderans… and unlike the last civil war, the people of Rondel would have access to magic _and_ gunpowder. There would be Earth casualties.

Which is why he felt his gut clench as the radio downlink made Ellie's thoughts clear. "We have a problem."

* * *

General Grey ducked as another fiery explosion erupted several meters away, blasting a group of men high into the air.

"But we're supposed to hold onto these for the siege!" the quartermaster trailing him complained.

Grey whirled on him and spat, "There won't _be_ a siege if we are wiped out before we reach Rondel. Our mage force is limited, and this is the only anti-air option we have!"

Aldo reached into the back of the cart and pulled out the first device, a long, curved board with an object at the bottom. This he hauled away from the cart, set one end down, then unfolded a pair of long wooden legs from the curved shaft so that it stood on its own as a tripod.

While the Mag-3s had been the pride of the Imperial Aviation group, there had been a decent amount of weapons research as well, and this was the fruit of those labors. "Flint and steel!" Aldo called, "quickly!"

Around him, other soldiers were setting up similar tripods, and all of them were adjusted so the long wooden shaft on each was pointed at the swarming Rondel planes above. "Ready!" the General called, sparking his weapon at the bottom, "Light, light!"

The object at the end of the long wood piece sputtered to life, then leapt forward.

Years ago, Clayton had warned Carol Dawson about the potential for such a weapon to appear, and here they were at last, finally being used in combat.

A dozen sheet iron rockets took to the skies, sputtered, then exploded like nasty fireworks, scattering shrapnel across the Rondel fliers.

* * *

"It won't roll?" Hector asked, confused.

"I'm turning the control that way right now, look!"

"Can't we roll the other way?"

"Greta said that I'll have to reverse the roll to stop it. If I begin the roll in the opposite direction, there will be no way to stop spinning, and we'll die on the way down!"

"Then what are you supposed to do?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" Ellie could feel a new level of panic clawing at her. If she didn't come up with an answer, they'd be on their way back down. The flight would be a success, but the mission would be a failure, and she'd have the blood of hundreds, maybe even thousands on her hands.

The inside of her helmet was hot from the insulation and her own breath. _I'm not supposed to be up here,_ she thought. _I fly through the air, I'm not made for this, or this machine, or—_

She felt Hector's hand on her shoulder. "Ellie," he said, "You've come this far, don't you dare quit on me now."

 _Easy for you to say, it's not like you're flying this thing._

Which caused her to stop and realize, _wait! Neither of us are flying this thing!_ There were no wings flapping or engines running… they were just floating up of their own accord. That would never work back down in the atmosphere, because the air would drag them back down. Down there, the best way to turn upside down and survive was to roll.

But up here… _there was no air._

"I'm going to somersault the ship," Ellie stated.

Nothing from Hector, then, "What?"

"I'm going to pitch the nose of the ship up and over so that we're pointing backwards. That will put us in the same place as if we're flying upside down."

"Greta never had a chance to test the pitch RCS thrusters on her flight. They might not work."

"Well, we're out of options, so here we go." This time, instead of turning the RCS control, she pulled back on it, then looked up through one of the tiny canopy windows to watch.

For a moment, very little. Just the deep black of the sky...almost like nighttime. Then…

She gasped. Bright blue, flecks of white, smears of brown and green. She had seen the world from the heights before, but never quite like this. From this altitude, there were no ships, no towns, no landmarks at all. Behind her, Hector could barely contain himself. "Look at that!" he cried. "Look! That's Falmart down there! All of it! And the Dumas mountains! Wow!"

Ellie laughed and flicked the RCS controls again. A set of white puffs appeared from the nose of the spacecraft and their spin stopped. Now, the whole planet was above them, the skies below them, and she couldn't help but be enraptured by the sight. "Hector," she called. "You're up!"

Behind her, Hector shifted around to place one of the Focus Crystals up against one of the windows. At this point, she knew, all she could do was wait, hope, and pray. They would have no way of knowing if they had been successful until they landed.

Through the viewport before her, she could see three bright dots in a triangle pattern just starting to make their way over the horizon. Perhaps she would never reach them directly, but she now understood what it was like to be up where the Night Triangle was, to see what it could see, and know what it could know.

But what she knew now was that it didn't matter if Satellites took over the roles of communication, scouting, or navigation from Monarchs. She had learned to fly a plane in less than a day, and Greta's spaceplane in a week. Perhaps she wasn't perfect at it yet, but if she could do that… if Monarchs could help bring people through the skies or to the edge of space, there would still be a need for them.

"It's done," Hector said. "Let's go home."

One more adjustment to the RCS thrusters turned the ship back around, dragon-scale belly between them and the atmosphere below. Now it was just a question if they would survive the return.

* * *

Kurihama tensed at another loud _thunk_ as a chunk of metal smacked against the bottom of his fuselage. "We told them not to use those things!" he shouted as he pulled up and hopefully away from the Saderan shrapnel fireworks.

"Well, you know the Imperials," Kamikoda called back. "All planes, weapons and fuel check."

"Hawkwind 2, one burst on the guns, okay fuel."

"Hawkwind 3, one, maybe two pulls, okay fuel."

A pause then, "Hawkwind 4, I'm out. Fuel's fine."

"Roger," Kamikoda said. "Hawkwind 4, RTB. The rest of you, Razorbill just took off, ETA… hang, on, are you seeing this?"

Kurihama looked back towards the enemy airfleet.

They were dropping. It wasn't a rapid descent, but every plane was either diving or gliding.

"Hawkwind Squadron!" Alnus ATC called. "News from Ichijima, the spaceplane has sent the de-attenuation. Are you seeing anything out there?"

"Yes… yes!" Kamikoda called back. "They've lost power! They're all on glide paths!"

"Understood. Razorbill ETA two minutes. Continue engaging the enemy!"

Kurihama felt a satisfied smile forming on his face. Dogfighting with guns wasn't the F-2's forte, but close air support against ground targets? The Viper Zero was _designed_ for that.

He put his plane into a banking turn and lined up a shot, this time at a bunch of Mag-3s which seemed to have either crashed or halted in the same glen. This time, there was neither anti-air nor interruption from the Rondel mages. _He had them_.

Just as he was about to press the trigger, the sun went out. Confused, he looked up.

There, above him, where there hadn't been one seconds before, was a massive cloud deck—dark nasty cumulus clouds. The sky had been clear moments ago, but now it seemed like the heavens themselves were about to rain down their fury on the ground below.

* * *

 **Ichijima**

Those on the island heard the thunder before they saw the storm. In the tent, Clayton looked up and could see the approaching storm, racing towards the island with unnatural speed.

Arpeggio's baby reacted first, shrieking at the noise. She took it from Flat and cradled it close to her chest, turning it away as if to somehow hide it from the dark clouds. "We're not schedule for any rain," Kengun pointed out.

"Will it affect your part of the mission?" Clayton asked.

"The F-2s are all-weather aircraft, and Itami and his team are already in position. We just need to know how the battle went."

It was not the communications specialist who spoke next, it was Rory. She had been silent for the entire operation, but now she appeared at Kengun's side, halberd in hand saying, "Palapon is _here_."

Kengun pointed out to sea. " _That's_ Palapon?"

Rory's mouth tilted into a grin. "A representation, I suppose. He's upset that you wrecked his little toys, despite knowing that they were a part of his will. I believe… that he intends to send this island back into the sea."

As if on cue, wind struck them with hurricane-force speeds, and all the loose items in the tent went flying. Flat and Arpeggio dropped to their knees, struggling to protect their baby from the flying sand and debris as JSDF soldiers rushed to secure the communications equipment. In the roaring gale, Clayton almost missed the buzzing of his cellphone.

He took it out to see a single message from Secretary Barton on the screen.

 **READY**

That was all he needed. He sent his reply, and approached Rory. "Tell the Gods to stop him!" he shouted.

"What for!?" Rory laughed back. "Seven years ago you claimed power over the gods. In the interim they have heard your fear over wielding such power, how Earth fears the atomic bomb. If you truly see yourselves as masters of this world, use that power!"

"Tell them I can still stop it, this is their last chance!"

But Rory's laughter continued. The JSDF had always seen her as an ally, but Clayton knew a darker truth. She was egging them on. Moral or not, good or not, the Gods wanted to see what the men of Earth were made of, and Rory was Emroy's instrument to that end.

After all, it hadn't been Clayton who had first suggested use of the atom bomb against Carenth.

"Fine!" Clayton shouted in response. "The gods have played their hand, now I'll play mine!"

Perhaps if the gods of the Special Region were as omnipotent as they claimed to be, Palapon might have noticed that the American constellation of satellites was directly overhead. He didn't know it yet, but these satellites were already fulfilling their hidden task, triangulating a final targeting solution and then pumping that solution at the speed of light back to Alnus, back through the Gate, and halfway around the world were an American targeting computer completed one last task.

It was only then, after weeks of inaction, that America fired its first weapon in the Sadera-Rondel conflict.

* * *

 _Author's note_

Again, my sincerest apologies about the long delay. Life has been busy, but a promise is a promise, and I still hope to finish this story before the summer ends.

To reduce the overall wait time, I plan on releasing the final two chapters one after the other. I'm very excited to share the secret Clayton's been sitting on the entire time, as none of you have quite managed to guess what ADMIT FUSCHIA entails.

Our flight's almost over. See you at the terminal!


	18. Chapter 17: Contact

**Chapter 17: Contact**

" _However, it is my judgment in these things that when you see something that is technically sweet, you go ahead and do it and you argue about what to do about it only after you have had your technical success."_

— _J. Robert Oppenheimer (Scientific Director of the Manhattan Project), 1954_

* * *

 **ABOUT HALF AN HOUR EARLIER**

 **Groom Lake AFB "Area 51", Nevada, United States**

In the seven years since the nuclear pact with the Gods of Falmart, America had not been idle.

Once the idea of magic had been presented to the Pentagon by DARPA, the Joint Chiefs had written back a short list of things that they were hoping magic would let them do, in the order of how dramatically it could affect future campaigns.

The third-most important item on that list was perfect camouflage. This was realized by the aircraft that Brigadier General Richard Mullan was now watching take to the air. The SR-75 "Abaddon" was the final punch line to an old Air Force budgeting joke that went, "By the time we reach 2030, the US Air Force will only be able to afford one plane." Indeed, the Abaddon program cost the defense department the same as two Gerald Ford class aircraft carriers, but in response the Abaddon was the perfect vehicle. Seconds after its landing gear retracted, the skin of the aircraft seemed to ripple as its SR-Phizon array activated, and the plane vanished from sight. This was accompanied by a peculiar noise as the plane's jet engines suddenly spiked in pitch, then become completely inaudible. If someone had the right tools, they would also notice that the plane had vanished from the entire electromagnetic spectrum, including infrared and radar.

It was as if the plane was never there to begin with.

Shortly after the Korea crisis, the Air Force Chief of Staff had called on Mullan, citing his actions in the Special Region, familiarity with magic users, and his ability to follow commands under pressure as enough to make him the perfect candidate to run DARPA's Magic Applications Program. At first he had been hesitant, but the promise of a promotion and the chance to get away from nuclear weapons was too good to pass up. Through the end of Dirrel's administration and into Mahana's, he'd overseen the fruits of American investigation into the secrets of the Special Region. Not all of them, of course; other departments handled mineral and biological discoveries and their applications—including a project to up-armor MRAPs with synthesized Ice Dragon scales—but that was nothing compared to his three projects.

An aide tapped him on the shoulder. "Orders from Secretary Barton," the aide said. "We are to test fire ADMIT FUSCHIA at the communicated coordinates in twenty minutes."

Mullan frowned. "We've always had our targets in advance. Is this a combat scenario?"

"He didn't say."

"Do we need Presidential authentication?"

The aide thought about it, then said, "Unlike release of nuclear weapons, there is no federal law detailing the use of the project."

This idea didn't sit well with Mullan. "The minute this project goes into the open, I'm writing my Congressman," he muttered. Jamming a binder under one arm, he followed his aide out of the boiling Nevada sun and into the main bunker.

For decades, people had come up with all kinds of crazy stories about Area 51, and on entering the base for the first time, Mullan had discovered every one of them to be false. There were no crashed UFOs, there were no little grey aliens, there were no Nazi flying saucers or extra-dimensional creatures or lizardmen cabals like the conspiracy theorists liked to claim. For the most part, Groom Lake Air Force Base tested aircraft; either experimental aircraft with novel propulsion systems or radar evasion technologies, or captured enemy planes to be used as part of aggressor squadrons. In his time at the base, Mullan had been shocked by the odd inventory of MiGs, Sukhois, and even a Chinese Chengdu J-20, which had arrived in shoebox-sized pieces over the course of four years.

As they passed through the first two security checkpoints, Mullan could hear a loud thrumming from deeper within the complex. He wasn't heading for the source, but he knew what it was.

The second-most important item on the Joint Chiefs list was an Unlimited Energy Supply. Magic hadn't been able to provide that, but it did provide a means of manipulating particles without the aid of magnetic fields, radiation, or any of the other common quantum forces that interfered with high-energy research. As such, the thrumming noise was coming from the cooling system of a small but very capable Cold Fusion reactor that was now powering much of the base. In theory, they could hook it up to the civilian power grid and power all of Las Vegas too, but it was generally agreed that clueing in the world on the accessibility of free electricity would cause a lot of anger amongst energy companies.

For now, answering the massive energy demand of ADMIT FUSCHIA was enough.

They entered an elevator which demanded Mullan's retina print, fingerprint geometry, spoken code, and quantum-encryption key fob before descending deeper into the facility. Another security checkpoint later, and they were in the control room, overlooking the Holy of Holies.

To one side of the chamber beyond sat a giant cluster of rocket engines. These weren't any normal engines either, they were the product of a 2015 patent by Boeing that used focused lasers to ignite deuterium fuel. In essence, they took the uncontrolled wrath of a hydrogen bomb and refined it into pointed fusion thrust for a rocket...such as the one that NASA hopped to eventually build for Mars missions. Much like the fusion reactor upstairs, it was agreed that news of a nuclear-powered rocket engine would be met poorly by certain sectors of the public, so its only prototype remained hidden in this room, a hundred feet underground.

Across from it lay the one thing that the Pentagon had wanted most. ADMIT FUSCHIA was a bizarrely-shaped machine, the product of careful, compartmentalized effort by Lockheed Martin's Skunk Works, Fermilab, and Northrop-Grumman. It was boxy and bulky, built as a hollow cube with two open ends, and a layer of armor plating thick enough to take whatever forces were exerted on it.

Mullan explained the situation to the other controllers. Much like a ballistic missile, ADMIT FUSCHIA had people to watch propulsion, navigation, armament, and all of them were carefully trained in their jobs. After all, no one had ever built a device like this before, and so every man and woman in the control room had effectively written the book on its operation and maintenance. Their orders clear, the airmen went to their respective chairs and began the firing process.

"Beginning Phizon cascade," one officer declared. Before them, the unusual machine roared to life as thousands of cooling elements raced to keep a series of finely tuned electromagnetic fled generators under control. A series of alarms went off, and a heavy, polarized glass partition dropped in front of the viewing windows.

"We have coordinates from the NROL-SR constellation," the navigation officer declared. Mullan looked at a screen showing the hard data, and while he didn't understand all of it, he understood enough to know that the target wasn't the usual testing grounds.

That could only mean…

"Well," Mullan said, "They were the ones who told us how to build it, after all."

And with that, the General threw the activation switch on the Air Force's first Tactical Gate Weapon.

* * *

 **Ichijima**

A thousand meters in the air off the coast of Ichijima, the fabric of reality itself seemed to bubble and warp. A swirling sphere of red and violet light appeared, spinning and pulsating like something alive, then twisted inward on itself. It appeared to flatten, then seemed to burrow to a deeper inner space, like a giant funnel, and a hole opened up in the sky.

Just as soon as it had opened, light poured forth, brighter than anything else in the sky other than the sun, which was probably appropriate; a similar process was occurring as the nuclear engines smashed hydrogen isotopes together into a heavy isotope of helium.

It was quiet at first, but when the sound finally caught up with the view, it was a tremendous roar that shook the sky and the firmament. This was no mere snap of Thunder, or even the seemingly endless gale of an atomic detonation, this was a banshee's wail.

Like a giant flaming sword, the jet of nuclear fire sliced into the stormfront, causing the clouds to boil off and sweep away under the onslaught, and the heavy winds vanished, as if someone had closed a tap.

The response from Rory was nearly instantaneous. She dropped to her knees, arms cradling her head, jaw gritting against what had to be a sodden spike of pain as her god responded to the attack. Clayton hadn't seen this for himself, but he'd read Mullan's reports about Giselle. He knew what this look from an Apostle meant.

The Ambassador got down on one knee so that the two were eye-level with each other. "We warned the Gods," he hissed. "We told them what the terms of peace were. This is the price of breaking that peace."

"They—survived—last—" Rory gasped.

"They survived _one_ atomic blast. They survived a few seconds of radiation. Not this time. This time, we're going to be here _all day long._ "

Now her face was beginning to twitch. She barely managed to say, "—bluffing—"

"Really?" Clayton replied, "If you're not convinced, that's fine. We've got plenty of time, and the engine isn't even on at full blast yet. If they don't get a cancellation order, the amount of nuclear propellant will be doubled right around... _now._ "

The nuclear geyser in the sky doubled in length, and Rory started to reach for her halberd.

"If I die, the ICBMs will be launched," Clayton clarified. "And your gods will burn, just like we promised."

" _Then what do you want!?"_ Rory shrieked. For the briefest moment, the mask slipped away, and Clayton saw the most satisfying thing he'd seen all year; panic from an Apostle.

"I want the gods to hold up their end of the bargain," Clayton said. "I want them to self-police and ensure that none of them ever step out of line again, and I want Palapon to pay an appropriate price for breaking our arrangement."

At that, Rory seemed to droop for a moment, her eyes locked in a faraway stare. Taking a closer look, Clayton could see that her lips were moving, but no sound was coming from her mouth. After a few seconds, she stopped, her eyes went wide, and her face was lit up by a brilliant and terrifying smile.

"Done," she said.

* * *

 **Somewhere between Rondel and Italica**

"Push forward!" General Aldo shouted. "Give them no quarter!"

Before them, a group of about two dozen crashed Rondel mages had fled their planes and had banded together into firing lines. From their position atop a hill, they were raining musket and pistol fire down on his men, but the Saderans had the numerical advantage. That, and no matter how much more advanced the Rondel guns were, they were still single-shot weapons with a long reload time and terrible accuracy.

The truth of the matter was more concerning than that. Grey was working to keep his army's attention on the Rondel airfleet remnants, rather than the dark, gusting clouds above. He had no control over the Gods, and all he could do was the task that had been handed to him.

Just as he and his group were about to crest the hill, the air was shattered by a high-pitched uneven keening, like someone was dragging a rake across a chalkboard. The sound seemed to fill the air, the ground… even his equipment seemed to vibrate with the shrill noise.

 _Was it a magic attack?_ Grey didn't know. Sound-magic attacks had been rare enough in pre-Gate, pre-Crystal warfare, with commanders preferring to use the few mages at their disposal for anti-artillery shields. With the Focus Crystals knocked out, Grey supposed that a magic adept could still be using magic, but then it would have made more sense for them to stay up in the air, wouldn't it?

Whatever was going on, he had to take that hill. Even if there was a remaining magic user up there. "Keep going!" He shouted at his men over the din.

As his soldiers crested the hill again, they slowed, then came to a standstill. Grey, following right behind them, soon saw why.

The remaining Rondel pilots had abandoned their weapons and were attending to their mages, all of which who were bleeding out of their eyes, ears, and noses.

* * *

 **190,000ft ASL**

High above Falmart, Ellie was fighting to keep the _Independence_ upright as it hurtled back through the atmosphere. Outside her windows she could see orangey streaks as the outside air friction dragged at the spacecraft's dragonscale belly, and all around her the ship seemed to be heating up as well. "Five more minutes," she called back to Hector, "Then we'll be slow enough to… hang on, do you hear that?"

It had started as a high pitched ringing in her ears, but it was increasing in volume as they descended. Her first thought was that it was something to do with re-entry… but surely Greta would have mentioned it if that was the case?

"I hear it too," Hector replied. "I do not think it's coming from the headsets eithuuu…."

The sudden slur to the end of his line caught her attention, but the _thunk_ as her flight engineer collapsed against the back of her chair sent her into shock. "Hector!" She called. "Hector, what's happending!?"

The line on her headset remained silent.

She still couldn't turn her head around to see what was going on, and she didn't hear deliberate movement. In fact, she couldn't hear much beyond the ringing noise, which now seemed to be buzzing the bones inside her own head.

Ellie tried to reach a hand over her shoulder to feel for Hector, but he neither took it, nor moved against it, and a particularly hard bump caused him to shift, but only a little, and clearly not of his own volition. It could only mean that the old battlemage was either unconscious… or worse.

And then, as if things couldn't be any worse, she felt a warm feeling well up in her nose, then drip over her lip in a stream that tasted of copper. She instinctively raised her free hand up to her face to wipe at the nosebleed, but her hand ran into the material of her spacesuit.

She hadn't been trained for this. Having the RCS fail had been bad enough, but now her engineer was unresponsive, she was potentially injured, and the spacecraft was in danger of being shaken apart by the unplanned, impossible buzzing.

Ellie looked up at the entry hatch above her head. Even if she could open it against the interior pressure, the plasma outside would fry her instantly… and even if she somehow survived that, she would either asphyxiate in the thin air, or plummet to hear death has her spacesuit kept her wings bound to her back.

For a moment, she was back above Italica, aboard a failing MagThree, her hands full of blood and death rushing for her, but this time there was no escape. She wanted control back, she wanted—

And that was when she realized, her other hand remained steady on the control stick, her feet firmly fixed to the rudder pedals. Even as she had been panicking, her training was still holding some semblance of order.

As her old mentor liked to say, _Fly first, panic later._

The Monarch placed her other hand on the stick. Whatever this was, whatever was going on, she would force her way through it. Would she die? In that second, it didn't matter.

 _This time,_ she decided, _I AM going to land this plane!_

* * *

 **Ichijima**

"...the baby," Arpeggio muttered as blood began to leak out of her eyes. Flat caught both his son and his wife before she fell to her knees. "Help!" He shouted, eyes wide with terror, "Someone, please!"

"Tell the Gods to stop it this instant!" Clayton yelled, grabbing Rory by the shoulders. This was a counter attack, it had to be. He hadn't been affected yet, but what if it was just a matter of time?

But Rory seemed just as terrified, "You fool, this is your baugghhh—"

She gurgled and coughed up a spout of blood and chunks of gore that hit Clayton all over his tailored suit. The weapon slipped out of her hands and Rory fell, clenching at her own throat.

That's when Kengun pulled out his sidearm. He didn't point it at Clayton, but his intent was clear. "Turn it off."

Clayton spun around to face him and argued, "It's not us!"

"I don't care," Kengun growled. "Whatever it is, turn it off, _now!_ "

Much to his own credit, Clayton actually hesitated. _I could always ask them to turn it back on_ , he supposed. He tapped a few quick instructions into his cellphone, and sent the message.

Above them, the jet of fire finally ceased. The hole to another world shrank in diameter until it disappeared from sight altogether. It was remarkably anticlimactic for something so destructive, but the same could probably said about the end of tornadoes and hurricanes.

But the noise and shaking did not stop, not for another minute, after which the Ambassador could still feel the ringing in his ears. Nearby, a truck from the nearby base with JSDF medics hurriedly went to work assisting Arpeggio and Rory.

Rory, ever the powerful Apostle, was back on her feet in seconds. "It is done," she declared.

"What's done?" Kengun asked.

The Apostle pointed at Clayton. "His request for Palapon; revenge against the god of revenge. The other gods...ate him."

Clayton dropped down next to her so that they were eye-level again. "What do you mean, they _ate_ him?"

Her grin seemed even more menacing through a face smeared with her own blood, which she slowly began to wipe away with the back of her dress sleeve. "The Gods aren't used to pain," she said. "They were only just reminded of it seven years ago, and even then, the burning of the atomic radiation only seared them for so long after the bomb went off. But with the Americans and their new hell-fountain, it never stopped. It just kept going, and _going…_ and you will never believe who snapped first! Zuftmuut! Can you believe it, all that droning about light and order meant nothing—he was gibbering, practically _begging_ for an excuse to put the axe to one of his own, another god."

She giggled at that last point, and continued, "Of course, Elange began rattling off alternatives, but as soon as you offered the option, my Lord and Master Emroy sent the others into a frenzy. Shrieking in pain and desperate, they descended on the whole planet and performed some… adjustments. The diffuse parts of this world that contained essence of Palapon are no more, safely devoured and incorporated into the other gods."

That was when it clicked for Clayton. If he was understanding her correctly, the Gods had needed to filter and remove Palapon from all the SR-phizons on the planet. This involved going through every rock, tree, and animal on the planet, hunting these particles down, and then using the inherent quantum-bending properties of magic to neutralize them all. Magic users or magic-sensitive demihumans like elves or Monarchs probably would have been more affected, as their bodies contained more of the magic-linked particles. Arpeggio, a magic adept, had taken a pretty severe hit, and Rory, an Apostle, had coughed up chunks of her own lungs.

Beside him, Kengun had put his gun away, but the look on his face was no less severe. "That was a Gate," he said, his voice cold, "Right?"

Clayton didn't answer, he just looked back down at the bloody mess that Rory had poured down his front. A whole new weapon, and a whole new slew of unexpected consequences. Thousands, possibly millions of people on this world had collapsed, bleeding out of their orifices, due to his single command. He wondered, just for a moment, how many had been touched by the Gods' panic. "I think…" Clayton said, and shook his head. He didn't know what to think. Instead, he settled on, "I think I should go replace my shirt," and stumbled off.

Behind him, Rory burst out laughing. "Keep it!" she shouted after him, "It suits you!"

* * *

 **Rondel, The Council Building**

Chairman Delsus burst into his own office and rushed to his desk, panting in terror and from his chaotic run back through the streets as he watched men, women, and children drop, crying in pain as they suffered the Gods' agony. He still did not know the state of his airfleet, but one thing had become abundantly clear; the Gods were no longer on his side. The Saderans would be coming for him soon, and that meant that he had to escape while there was still time to do so.

He coughed to clear some of the metallic taste from the back of his own mouth, and tried to wash it away with wine from a flask on the table. As he tilted his head back in hopes of drawing a few remaining drops, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, quickly turned to face the visitor… and found a sword a centimeter away from his throat.

Empress Pina Co Lada hardly reacted, adjusting the angle of her blade slightly as she said, "Hamilton, please close the door."

Behind her, the other member of the Rose Guard quietly closed the door to the office. In fact, now that he was paying attention, he realized that there was a whole _group_ of people standing back there; a few choice Saderan soldiers, dark elves holding Earth weapons, Tuka with a bow at the ready, and an exhausted, blood soaked Lelei leaning on one of three JSDF Special Forces soldiers. They had been hiding up against the wall, and Delsus had been in such a panic that he'd rushed right past all of them when entering the room.

As if reading his mind, PIna explained, "Once I heard about the little invisibility trick that you used on Sherry's envoy, I just had to try it myself. We have been in your city since early this morning, and in this room for nearly an hour. You really took your time out there."

Delsus was afraid to turn his head, but he still looked the one easily-recognizable Japanese soldier dead in the eye. "This is your idea, wasn't it."

Itami Youji, not wanting to disturb Lelei with a shrug, simply held up a hand. "Japan offered Sadera help with logistics, and that's exactly what we did. We carried some things and people around, but we're just here as observers. The great tactician you're looking for is the one in front of you with the sword."

"I may not know my way around grand strategy," Pina said, "But small unit operations? I've only spent a _lifetime_ training for that."

"So now what?" Delsus asked. "You ask me to surrender?"

"That would be nice."

"I'll be hanged for treason."

"Maybe."

Delsus couldn't help but grin. This whole act was a farce, and he'd surely be dead within a week. Summoning up the shreds of his courage, he slid his way around the edge of his table, allowing Pina to keep his swordpoint on him. "I have some parchment here," he said.

His hand drifted down to one of the drawers, which he slowly opened, then reached inside. "And might I add," he said, "How thankful I am that you came to see it through in person."

When it whipped his hand out of the drawer, it held a flintlock pistol.

 _ **BANG**_

The sound of the gunshot seemed to hang in the air for an eternity before Delsus realized that the smoke curling up between him and Pina wasn't coming from his own weapon.

Looking down, he saw that the Empress held in her free hand a knockoff of the Rondel gun that had almost been used to assassinate her, back when his grand quest for revenge had just started.

The world around him took on a foggy, almost dreamlike wobble as he fell back into his office chair, clutching at the wound in his chest. "You—" he gasped, "don't—have—those—yet—"

Pina smiled. "This is our first prototype," she said, then displayed the weapon's novel feature.

She pulled the other trigger, and the second barrel went off, ending the objective, the war, and Chairman Delsus's miserable life.

* * *

 **Above New Alnus Settlement**

The hard part was over. The _Independence_ had finished its descent through the worst part of reentry, and Ellie heard a thudding noise against the spacecraft hull as it dropped back below the speed of sound, followed by the usual roaring and rushing as air continued to blow past them.

The approach to Alnus was exactly as she'd remembered it in the MagThree, but where the MagThree seemed to easily float through the air, Greta's ship had the lifting properties of a clay bowl. If Hector was still lucid she could have made a powered approach, but with him out of the action, she would need to glide her way in...which meant that she needed to get it right on the first try.

She carefully lowered the nose so that they were aimed at the nearer end of the runway and watched the altimeter on the Lockheed Martin box spin around the dial. At a certain number, she reached over to a lever on the left side of her compartment and pulled it. This time, Ellie heard a creaking beneath her as the landing skids deployed from the head shield, and the noisiness outside increased as they dragged at the airflow.

All according to plan.

As she neared the end of the runway, she pulled the nose of the vehicle back up, simultaneously preparing for landing and dropping her airspeed. Outside the windows, the runway was hardly visible. All she could do was trust in her instruments and wait.

The rear skids contacted with a shock that threw her up in her seat, and she had to fight to grab at one last handle to engage the air brakes. Fortunately, the same seatbelt kept her from crashing across the cabin, and eventually knocked her back against the seat cushions as the vehicle came to a complete stop.

Not willing to wait a minute more, Ellie detached her suit from the life support system nozzle and turned around to face her crewmate. Hector was still slumped over in his chair, but as she raised his head, she could see that he was indeed awake, and was trying to blink congealing blood out of his eyes. "Can you hear me!" she cried, "Are you alright?"

Hector shook his head, opened the vent port on the side of his spacesuit, and asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know. We landed at Alnus."

They heard the rumble of a motor vehicle outside, followed by a clanging on the access hatch. Ellie scrambled to get out of the way as the hatch opened inward, and the two were met with the smiling face of Hatori the JSDF test pilot. "We were tracking you the whole way," he said. "Great landing!"

"Did we succeed?" Hector asked.

"Sure did! Knocked every last one of those Rondel idiots out of the sky! We're still waiting on word from Ichijima to explain everything that happened after that, but congratulations, you're heroes _and_ you're astronauts!"

Ellie didn't know what to do or say. After all the intensity, her nerves had finally worn out, and she was simply exhausted. "That's… that's great…" she said. "Can I take off—"

"Both of you need to stay in there for just a little while longer," Hatori interrupted, "So buckle back up!"

"But we just landed!"

"We need to get you off the runway before the F-2s run out of fuel!"

Ellie sighed and dropped back into her seat. Compared to the intensity of the flight, the truck that hauled their ship away made for an anticlimactic end to their travels.

"Hey, Ellie," Hector said, reaching up and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes?"

"You did it. What you were trying to do this whole time. You visited the place where the Night Triangle flies."

Ellie nodded.

"Did you find what you were looking for up there?"

She thought about the postcard in her pocket, presented to her by Greta with the English scrawl, _Because you're worth it too!_ Perhaps she hadn't seen the Night Triangle up close, but she had found confidence in herself in the process, and that was worth far more to her than a trio of glowing dots.

"Yeah. I did."

* * *

 _Author's note_

The depiction of an opening and closing Gate is based off of the one that appears at Alnus and disgorges alien space bugs in Yannai's original Gate Light Novel, Volume 10, chapters 9 and 10. I like to think that the American's first stab at the technology looks the same way as ADMIT FUSCHIA is, like Pina's pistol, a prototype, imperfect adaptation of found/observed technology.


	19. Chapter 18: Landing

**Chapter 18: Landing**

 **Yokohama, Japan**

The apartment was on the slightly smaller side, but not much smaller than the room Flat and Arpeggio had rented together back in Rondel. It was nicely furnished, and at the back a pair of sliding doors offered admittance to a balcony and a beautiful view of Tokyo Bay.

"Tokyo University offered to pay for the first year while you get adjusted," Shirai explained, placing a box of old utensils and cooking implements on their kitchen table. "But the money should be enough to get you settled even if that was not the case."

Flat was still enamored by all the electronic devices around him. Shirai's observatory had been one thing, but the presence of so many tiny screens and blinking lights was overwhelming at first, yet offered so much to explore and learn about.

In the kitchen, he saw his wife, clutching their squirming son, as she traced a finger across the induction stove. The medics had checked her out thoroughly after the incident in the skies near Ichijima, and had found her to not be in any serious amount of danger. After a day of treatment and observation, she was doing fine. Their son had not been affected at all, but that was probably due to the fact that Palapon's death rattle had only affected those with magic, and the children of the Special Region did not exhibit any latent magical abilities until ages five or six (for humans). The position and wind direction around the American weapon also meant that any radiation had been swept out to sea, so his family had nothing to fear from that either. Looking up from the stove, Arpeggio asked, "Is it true that this heats using a loadstone?"

"Same force, different principle," Shirai answered. "Once I've helped you bring up the other boxes and bags, I'll explain all the appliances to you."

"We could still call a mover!" Flat pleaded, "You don't need to pick up—"

"I asked you to put your family's safety on the line in Rondel. Helping you move in is a trifle compared to what you've done for me, and for Japan." Shirai smiled to himself, and added, "Besides, you've got a busy week ahead of you; shopping, furnishing, the naturalization ceremony, introducing both of you to the other professors at Tokyo U… Professor Youmei demanded that I give him your address so that he could pester you with questions before the others, but I figured that you would appreciate the peace and quiet."

"We _will_ be safe here, right?" Arpeggio pressed.

Shirai smiled and placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. "There is an announcement being made in New York today. You will have nothing to worry about, and there is no chance of something like the Hakone Incident reoccurring. Japan has always been a very safe country for families, and we aim to keep it that way."

"It's just…" she walked into the living area, between the couch and television and said, "It's hard to believe that it's real. We're really here, we're—"

Her voice cracked and Flat wrapped his arms around her. "It's everything we ever wanted," Flat admitted with a smile. "I—I don't even know what to do next!"

"Ultimately that's up to you, but for now," Shirai gave them a courteous bow, " _Okaeri._ Welcome home."

* * *

 **United Nations Headquarters, New York City, New York, USA**

Antony Leonovich Kuragin was more intrigued than annoyed by the change in proceedings. He had been sent to the General Assembly to be part of a multinational statement on geomagnetic storms, but the slot for the presentation had been shelved in favor of an emergency meeting; the Empress of a Special Region had asked to apply for membership.

While Kuragin wasn't normally interested in politics, he, like many of his colleagues at the Russian Academy of Sciences, was interested in seeing a member of the Special Region with his own eyes, rather than on Japanese YouTube videos. The Russian Ambassador, Kolya Sergeich Balanov had offered him an empty chair behind him to enjoy a front row seat to an important event. "Not that you should expect much," Balanov warned him. "Moscow's policy is to Veto anything that doesn't place Russians through the Gate, and I expect to see the same reaction from Beijing, Paris, and London."

Around them, the Assembly room fell to a hush as the Secretary-General stepped up to the podium. "Good morning," he said, his voice translated into comprehensible Russian over the Assembly Room's headset. "It is usually the case that new nations applying to this great institution are the product of massive social upheaval, so I am delighted, for once, to introduce a nation, wholly formed, that wishes to join in the universal dream of unity and peace between all peoples."

Balanov snorted at that. The Ginza incident was public knowledge, and the Saderan Civil War, though still partially shrouded in mystery, suggested that the encounter beyond the Gate had been anything but peaceful. The movement of American ballistic missile launchers and JMSDF navy vessels to the Special Region further implied that the situation was dicey, at best. Talk of another small regional conflict had also been brought to the attention of the UN with the removal of the WHO from the city of Rondel.

 _Ah well,_ Kuragin thought, _we can allow the Secretary-General his fantasy._

"I would therefore like to present the Head of State of the Saderan Empire, her Highness PIna Co Lada."

The woman who stepped onto the stage was pretty, but dressed in formal Earth attire, so there was little conspicuous about her beyond her shocking red hair and apparent age. _I have graduate students in my department older than her,_ he thought with a frown.

"Greetings to the People of Earth," Pina began, and Kuragin heard the translation teams on the other end of the line switch to accommodate her Japanese. "I am Empress Pina Co Lada, and I have been sent to speak on behalf of the people of my nation to ask for acceptance into your great organization."

She looked up from her speech for a moment at the cold silence of the audience, swallowed, then went on. "The Saderan Empire has a long and storied history, stretching back thousands of years and incorporating many cultures from many lands. We recognize that we offer resources and opportunities not available on Earth, just as Earth offers many resources and opportunities not yet available on our world, and it is the hope of my people to be able to trade with all of yours in a way that increases prosperity for all, and promotes a bridge of interplanetary friendship between our two worlds.

"To that end, I have come here to request Observer status for my people, with a hope to extend to full member status in one year's time. This is because we are currently in the process of transitioning from a council-aided Monarchy to a Parliamentary Democracy, and I would hope that the men and women of Falmart would select their first representative by their own decision, rather than with even limited authoritarian bias of any kind.

"However, we recognize that forming such a connection with the peoples of Earth would be difficult even under normal circumstances. I have been advised that there are those among you who question our sovereignty based on the access controls enforced by Japan. This is why I have spoken at length with Japanese Prime Minister Hideaki, and I am happy to announce that we have reached an agreement…"

She looked up from her papers again, to watch the audience. "An agreement which will allow all nations duty-free access through the Gate, and to Falmart beyond."

If the tension in the room had been held behind the dam of civility before, that dam burst at the end of Pina's line. Half the Ambassadors were on their feet, some people cheering, others shouting questions in a plethora of languages. Before him, Balanov's mouth hung half open in shock, and as Kuragin looked across the room for other reactions, he caught the Chinese Ambassador Liu looking back down at the podium with a similarly puzzled expression.

Kuragin's first question was _Why?_ But this was quickly superseded by the even more important question, _Why now?_ Even the Americans hadn't been able to conduct trade with the Special Region, despite the fact that they supplied military assets for operations over there. Something significant must have changed… and even if something had, why allow all nations to go through? Why not just America, or a select handful of Japanese allies?

What if they had found something that rendered those economic concerns unnecessary?

What if the thing they had found was dangerous?

What if what they had found was dangerous enough that they didn't _care_ if other nations started exploring the Special Region?

Balanov turned to look at him and, as if reading his mind, asked, "What do you think?"

Kuragin placed a hand on the Ambassador's shoulder. "Kolya Sergeich," he said, "I think we have a lot of catching-up to do."

* * *

 **Jade Palace, Sadera, Falmart**

It had taken the whole week for things to calm down enough for Clayton to return to his office at the Jade Palace. Even since returning, he had been bombarded with aides wanting his attention, or Senators who wished to thank him for allowing the original Imperial Aviation Group to return to Sadera. All of these he somehow crammed around the regular bureaucratic work… with the exception of one interesting meeting request that he assigned as much time as it needed.

This meeting began, as most did, with a knock on his door. "Come in," he said, placing his cellphone down atop his desk.

In walked Sherry Tyueli. She looked exhausted, and not particularly happy. "Hello Ambassador," she said. "I suppose congratulations on your victory are in order."

"Hello, Lady Tyueli. And it's you who should be congratulated. The victory over Rondel was ultimately lead by denizens of the Special Region with minimal Earth involvement. Shouldn't that be celebrated?"

Sherry didn't seem to think so, and slipped into the seat across from him, leaning against the armrest for support.

"Up late?" Clayton asked.

"I suppose you could say that. I've been having a recurring nightmare that ends with an American JDAM being pushed through a very small Gate into the space underneath my bed. You wouldn't happen to know if a worry like that is valid, would you?"

Clayton only offered a thin smile in response.

"Fine, I'll answer my own question for you. I think you have a device that produces Gates. I think that you've been working to develop such a device for seven years, and I think that the Night Triangle that you funded to put up is the guidance and targeting system that lets your device open one end on this planet."

That was exactly it, of course, but Clayton wasn't about to acknowledge that. "Interesting theory."

"I'm not here to talk about the specifics of your Gate device," she said. "I'm here to discuss what happens next."

Clayton's grin moved to a full-blown smile. "You're referring to Pina's appeal to the United Nations."

"That's right," Sherry leaned across the table so they were eye to eye. "She mentioned in her speech that she had met with Prime Minister Hideaki to discuss terms that would allow other countries trade with the Special Region—"

"I see that Sugawara's keeping you well informed. He goes back to Japan in two days, you know."

With the threat from Rondel removed, Pina had spoken directly with the Japanese government and requested that they swap out Sugawara on account of "unprofessional behavior." On the other side of the Gate, Defense Minister Nomura had applied additional pressure to the Prime Minister, and Sugawara had been given a departure notice a few days later. Clayton knew that Sherry had amassed other means of obtaining information about Japan, but with Sugawara out of the picture Japanese policy would return to being, predominantly, Japanese.

"Fortunately," Clayton added, "I have met the new ambassador, and you have nothing to fear. _Mrs._ Okazaki takes her work _very_ seriously."

"So I've heard. I might as well point out that I know this information because I wrote the speech, not because of Sugarwara," Sherry said." So it might interest you to know that Pina never made such a request to Prime Minister Hideaki."

Now _that_ Clayton wasn't aware of. "Who did?" he asked.

"General Kengun."

Clayton felt his gut twist. "Why would he do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? If America really does hold a Gate-maker, then they also have unrestricted access to the Special Region… and unlike Japan, they can access _anywhere_ in the Special Region, not just Alnus or wherever Lelei La Leleina can be flown out to on a given day. Long ago, the United States became embroiled in the Hakone Incident over a fear that Japan would gain the upper hand in discoveries and therefore Intellectual Property. With a Gate at your command and deployable wherever you wish, that battle has been _de facto_ won by the United States. Right now, their best move is to capitalize on the demand of other nations for access to the Alnus-Ginza Gate… after all, duty-free is not _regulation_ free. Transporters will need places to wait while their shipments are checked for weapons and hazardous materials—I don't think Japan wants to see Saderans armed with Kalashnikovs any more than you do, Mr. Clayton. That means housing, food, gas stations…plenty of little things that go back into the Japanese economy."

That was not the answer Clayton was thinking of, but it made sense too. He said, "So the Japanese stand to gain from housing the traders or taxing and tolling them for other reasons. Still, in exchange you get access to Earth technology...and supposedly access to the Earth Internet. I imagine that your world is going to change quite a lot."

"It already has changed. With Rondel's surrender, we've probably seen the end of traditional spear-and sword warfare in Falmart. From now own it will be airplanes, rocket artillery, gun squads, and heaven knows what else, which brings me back to my original point. A Gate also offers America an instantaneous weapons delivery platform, meaning that if you wished to eliminate a problematic politician, there is literally nothing that we could do to stop you."

Clayton said nothing.

"The long-term ramifications of this don't bother you?"

"Ms Tyueli," Clayton said, leaning back in his chair, "As long as we're sharing theories about _long-term ramifications_ , I have one of my own that I'd like to run past you. May I?"

Sherry nodded, and Clayton explained an idea that he'd been thinking about for some time.

"You know, it occurred to me as strange from the start that Rondel would want to fight a war. To be fair, their complaint about Saderan taxation was a reasonable one. After all, the United States was formed because a group of lawyers and businessmen were growing tired of overseas tax law implementation. Despite this, I did a little digging and had my people run the numbers on the Rondel tax rates vs per capita income by year, and I learned something truly remarkable.

This time he leaned forward. "The tax rate had been increased dramatically over the course of eight months. By executive order, no less. Granted, Pina knows enough math to calculate percentages, and I'm sure that if she also had the attention span to look into such things, she'd agree that the tax hike would be pretty burdensome. If similar action had been taken against Italica, I can imagine them wanting to secede as well. Unfortunately, we both know she's more fond of manga than legal documents, so the odds of her picking up on this fact before signing the tax rate into law was slim.

"But let's put that aside for a moment and discuss the topic of lobbying. I recall that a significant amount of money went into a senatorial vote around the same time as the tax hike regarding electing demihumans to the Senate. You know as well as I do that some demihumans, Warrior-Bunnies in particular, mature quickly and live shorter lives. As such, legislation was introduced to allow demihumans to serve at younger ages...but curiously that same legislation did not offer age curves by race. One implication of this was that a human could, in theory, run for the position of Prime Minister at the age of twenty, once the new constitution was put into place about a year later."

If the nineteen year old woman sitting across from him had caught on, she didn't say anything.

"One last supposition," Clayton said. "The key to sovereignty is the ability to enforce that same sovereignty. The Empire at the time of the Ginza invasion relied on a system of nobility to enforce the law beyond Sadera. Thus Italica was unlikely to ever rebel due to the Saderan sword hanging over its head, and Rondel could be counted on to either follow the rules, or remain neutral in the event of domestic strife. While this Feudal system can work, you cannot implement such a system with a democracy at its center and expect to maintain control over a large territory. Rather, you need a reliable system of communication between the population centers to assure that representation is properly established between the people and the Senate. Again, if you look at the United States, the US Postal Service was signed into being before the Declaration of Independence, and its formal establishment in law appeared just four years after our Constitution was ratified…

"But to get to the point, there needed to be a faster means of communication, and Wyverns and carrier pigeons just wouldn't cut it. MagThree gliders offered promise, but there was no impetus to build enough at the scale needed for a Falmart Democracy to function properly. But what if the impetus existed...say, a war? War is a great excuse to build aircraft. For instance, the United States built so many C-47s during the Second World War that the market was flooded with them for nearly half a century. Better still, such a war could act as an excuse to access even better aircraft technology and technicians that had been previously underfunded… or sealed away."

" _In conclusion_ , if we put all these parts together, orchestrating the civil war between Rondel and Sadera would give a certain someone the technology and tools she'd need to become Prime Minister of a functioning Falmart Republic. The only thing lacking would be a Saderan victory, which could be gained by applying diplomatic pressure to Japan to provide the same units that dominated the last war. Correct me if I'm wrong, _Sherry._ "

It was like looking in a mirror. The girl gave a polite smile and raised one eyebrow. "What gave you that idea?"

"Ultimately it was the underequipped squad of soldiers you sent to threaten the Rondel Council at the start of the war, without much of a good reason other than to provide _Casus belli_. That was sloppy, even for you."

But all Sherry did was shoot back, " _Interesting theory._ "

Clayton couldn't help but chuckle at her reply. His black project, her political manipulations… the rules of diplomacy demanded that neither of them could admit to what they'd done. When national interests were at stake, this was simply the way things went. "Well," she said, standing, "this has been a delightful conversation. I should let you get back to work. I expect that Sadera will be host to dozens of embassies after the UN measure goes through."

She offered her hand and he stood, shook it, and watched her go to the door. "I imagine that it will be more complicated for you too," she said. "No instant Gate-bombing of your diplomatic problems. If only Earth had a satellite targeting system like the one you placed over our planet."

 _Perhaps she understood Kengun's plea after all,_ he thought. _The nuclear calculus of Earth is forever ruined, and there's no going back._ His thoughts drifted down the cellphone on his desk… and the GPS chip within it. "Yes," he said. "If only."

"I suppose we must all be held accountable at some point. Good day, Ambassador Clayton."

"Good day, Lady Tyueli."

As the door to his office swung shut, Clayton wondered which of the other nations would discover ADMIT FUSCHIA first, and how they would try to counter it.

Because she was right. Someone _would_ hold them accountable. Eventually.

It was merely a question of who would manage to do it first.

* * *

 **Ginza, Tokyo, Japan**

Dr. Nguyen was there for most of it.

He was around to hear that Chairman Delsus had been assassinated. He was around when the Saderan force arrived, flying captured and repainted Rondel MagThrees with replacement crystals.. He witnessed the Saderan message to the remaining Councilmembers describing what had happened in Delsus' office, including artifacts as proof, and the ensuing signing of the documents of surrender and war reparations. Since the war was short, economic reparations were light. Most of the terms surrounded the surrender of weapons, decommissioning of weapons manufacture facilities (including the disassembly and transfer of the new steam engines), and a restructuring of Rondel's government to bring it closer in line with the ideal province of a future planned Falmart Republic.

He was also there when the small convoy of two JSDF recon vehicles and one truck painted white and bearing the distinct UN logo arrived a day later. He did not even try to hide from them, and instead walked directly up to the blue-helmeted Italians and presented himself for arrest. The Italians, happy to be saved a long hunting mission, had treated him fairly on the way back. He could still hear their chatter as they passed through Alnus and the opened Gate; how exciting the new world and new creatures were, how fascinating the architecture of Rondel and Italica were, and how strange it was to hear a new language that sounded like it evolved from Latin, yet maintained enough clear distinctions that it was still very much its own thing.

He wasn't sure what would be waiting for him once he got back to Vietnam. From the sound of it, both his countrymen and the World Health Organization were both very angry with him, and he was probably facing prison time.

It had been raining at Alnus, and the truck was still slick with moisture when the soldiers finally told him to get off at Ginza for transfer to another vehicle. Slick enough that his hand slipped on the side of the vehicle and he fell, hands first, onto the pavement. He felt a brief spike of pain and, as the Italians lifted him back to his feet, he saw blood on his hands. They offered him bandages, but he waved them off.

Ultimately, he was transferred to the back of a police vehicle. He watched out of the rear windshield as the Gate facility got smaller and smaller, until they turned a corner and it was lost from sight.

He had been there for many things during his Gate trip, but only one particularly special, private event stood out. The last words of Palapon before the God of Revenge slipped into eternity.

Nguyen looked at his hands one more time. Making sure the drivers of the vehicle weren't looking, he wiped one hand off on his pants leg and looked again.

The cuts were gone, healed impossibly fast by the magic possessed by only one select group of the Special Region.

A group which he was now, technically, a member of.

Palapon's last words had been, "You wanted to know about Apostles? _You're it_."

* * *

 **Tsukuba Space Center, Japan**

"Do you think she'll recognize me?" Greta asked. "I mean, it's been seven years… and what if this thing frightens her?"

The aerospace engineer held up her right hand—the one that McKann had said would never move again. As soon as they'd arrived in Japan, Greta had rushed to the closest public library to research ways to get her dead arm functioning. Ellie had watched over her shoulder in awe as the screen displayed page after page and image after image of options for people with Greta's problem. Fortunately, Japan, being one of the great robotics capitols of the world, had a solution. Within an hour they had the name of a firm in Nagoya that specialized in lightweight, 3-D printed exoskeletons for the disabled. This particular design used surface electrodes to detect nerve impulses from Greta's upper arm that controlled motors that helped manipulate her fingers and wrist.

"If she's as crazy about technology as you are, she'll probably be even more excited," Ellie pointed out. "You did say that she was the one who taught you the _word_ robotics to begin with."

They were standing outside the entrance of a large building on the JAXA campus. This, they were told, was the Space Station Test Building. Within was a mockup of the International Space Station's Kibo Laboratory...and the under-construction hull of a new module bound for the upcoming International Lunar Operating Platform-Gateway. When Greta had tried to describe either of the two stations to her, Hector had snorted and shook his head. "Outpost beyond the sky indeed," he'd said. "As if these Earth people have anything better to do with their time and wealth."

"The three of us _are_ astronauts," Ellie pointed out. "Maybe they'll take us up there next?"

"Maybe we'll build our own first," Hector countered. "After all, how many Earth nations have sent people to Space on their own vessels?"

"Three," Greta said. "Maybe four… oh I _knew_ that I forgot something at the library! Now I want to go back and check if India ever made it."

"You'll miss Carol!"

"She probably doesn't remember—"

"Isn't that her, there?" Hector asked, pointing.

The woman who emerged from the building was older than when Greta had last seen her, perhaps with a few more lines in her face, and a little grey in her hair, but it was still unmistakably Carol Dawson. She appeared to fiddle with a collapsible umbrella for a moment, then looked up and, on noticing them, froze.

Hector gave Greta a firm shove and said, "Go to her, girl!"

He didn't need to ask twice. Greta rushed through the drizzle until she was feet apart from her old mentor. With a shaking hand, she reached into a raincoat pocket and pulled out the postcard that Carol had given her seven years ago. "I—I built it—" she stuttered. "Just like I told you I would, a—and I got to go above the Karman line, and—"

Carol dropped everything and grabbed Greta in a firm hug, which Greta easily and quickly reciprocated. Even from this distance, Ellie could see that they were both crying.

"We should give them some time," Ellie started, Hector acknowledged with a nod, and they went for a walk.

Compared to the busy streets and rail lines they had taken to get there, the space center's rocket park was wonderfully silent and still. The drizzle gave the air a charged atmosphere which smelled of trees and a hint of soy. They eventually came to a stop in front of a massive H-II, laying on one side. A plaque in front of the vehicle described some of the history of the vehicle and Hector, in early struggling Japanese, attempted a translation.

"It says that the original was based from an old American rocket called Delta," he said, raising an eyebrow. "So Greta's not the only ones to copy from the Americans."

"Did the Americans copy from someone else?"

"It doesn't say… " He looked over at Ellie and said, "What do you think about what they did? About copying the Gate?"

Ellie wasn't sure what to say, so she countered, "Why, what do you think?"

Hector continued to stare down at the information placard, but it was clear that he was lost in his own thoughts rather than reading it. "On the one hand...it frees them from the tyrrany of needing to use other Godwrecker weapons and starts the process to properly unite the two worlds. If it was not used, we would not be standing here, Greta would not have reunited with Dr. Dawson, and the ban on Earth technology in our world would still be in place. On the other hand, it lets the Americans put the sword to whomever they wish, whenever they wish, wherever they wish, and the consequences of ordering the death of a God made people all over our world suffer. Is that right? Is one really worth trading for the other?"

He turned to look at her. "And what will happen to our world once we have all of that technology?"

Ellie shrugged and said, "We'll have to do the right thing?"

"'Right' and 'wrong' become harder to pin down when their definitions are up for revision," Hector pointed out. "The world's not that simple, girl."

She couldn't help but smile at Hector's chiding. The past few weeks had been people trying to figure out what right and wrong actually meant. Perhaps not everyone had gotten what the wanted, and many of them had learned harsh lessons along the way.

The Americans and Japanese, Sadera and Rondel, herself… all trying to pin down that point. Regardless of what they had learned, they shared one thing. They had all _changed_ from it.

"I know,' she said. "I guess that's part of growing up, isn't it?"

* * *

 _Author's note_

It has been seven years—almost as long as it took Greta to build her spaceships—since crew-capable vehicles have flown from the launch pads in Florida. If nothing else, it will be exciting to see Private space grow up as it writes the next chapter in the history of spaceflight.

 _ **A Sky Full of Thunder**_ was never supposed to happen. I felt that much of the future was abundantly clear from the final and bonus chapters of _A Sky Full of Fire_ , but I just couldn't leave the characters where they were. Not with so much else to speculate about, and especially not with Odette Ze Negula practically screaming at me from the cover of _Weigh Anchor_ to do something with her race in the context of flight and space.

For those of you shouting _What about Nguyen!_ I feel that it's reasonably easy to guess what would happen next, and while I don't see a sequel as necessary, the groundwork for it is there if enough free time appears for me to come back to it. Please don't hold your breath though, I have a lot on my plate, and as you probably noticed with the past few chapters, not as much time to write as I'd like.

Was _Thunder_ as good as _Fire_? That's up to the rest of you to decide. Whether you've been following since February of 2017 or started reading today, you have my sincerest thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to accommodate my little thought-experiment. As always, if you have any lingering questions, feel free to PM me.

8andahalfby11

August 22, 2018


	20. A Confrontation: Prelude to Starlight

**A CONFRONTATION: A Prelude to** _ **A Sky Full of Starlight**_

 **SIX MONTHS AFTER A SKY FULL OF THUNDER**

 **New Alnus, The Special Region**

"Do you know what the symbolic bird of Alnus should be?" Hector asked.

"No," Ellie said. "What?"

"The Crane."

Ellie blinked twice, confused, before Hector pointed up the street and said, "It's a pun. It's an English pun."

"Oh!" Ellie said, finally connecting the words. She had been studying English aggressively for the past few months, but it was a horrifically difficult language, and the fact that most of the Americans in the Special Region filled their speech with slang and idioms didn't help. Still, she knew enough to finally get Hector's joke.

With the sudden availability of the Special Region to the nations of Earth, billions of dollars and yuan and euros had poured into construction in Alnus, as companies from across that globe scrambled to get their hands on the best real estate on the other side of the Gate. As such, the streets were noisier than ever, not just with the normal collection of cars and airplanes from the JSDF garrison, but now with hundreds upon hundreds of construction vehicles. Indeed, as Hector had pointed out, when you looked up from the street the sky seemed to be full of construction cranes and gantries.

Still, Hector's idea at a joke didn't help settle Ellie much. She was still nervous, both about the next few hours and the near future.

"I can go with you, if you want," Hector said. "If she gives you any trouble, I'll-"

"I'll be fine," Ellie said. "Just, please, let's talk about something else."

"Like your job offer?"

"...and something other than that. Tell me… how is the research with Ms. Lelei going?"

Hector rolled his eyes. "I don't care for Earth alchemy… this _chemistry_ thing. Alchemy relied on an understanding of the thing itself; what it tastes like, what the features were like, known reactions with other things. With Chemistry it's letters marching about a paper, representing fundamentals too small to ever be seen, forces too limited to be observed on an easy scale, and after a point the numbers stop being real and become guesses. Lelei la Leleina is drier than a pottery kiln, and her lectures are like listening to ten hours of a grain mill.

"And yet…"

"You're enjoying yourself?"

Hector shrugged. "Earth science has a wonderful way of making subtle things obvious, and sensing patterns where there shouldn't be any. The intensified explosion spells Greta had me using make much more sense, and the things it can do for fire, ice, electricity-they have laws for lightning, you know. I'd show you, but I wouldn't want to make the people around here upset."

Ellie smiled. "That's great!"

"There's the medicine too! I like that part better; they have this machine called a microscope, which is like a telescope but in reverse, yet theirs are powerful enough to see the insides of the tiniest creatures… and once you witness how they operate, how they hold together and grow, then healing spells become a hundred times easier."

"That reminds me, didn't you say that the healers at the hospital in Italica wanted to check you for something?"

Hector nodded. "Yes. It had to do with the burning effects of the Godwrecker."

"And?"

"And they found a few things they wish to keep track of, but nothing important."

Ellie stepped in front of him so that he was forced to stop. "What do you mean by _keeping track_ of things?"

"I told you, nothing of significance."

"How long have we been traveling together?" Ellie asked, placing her hands on her hips. "You know that I won't move until I have an answer."

The edge of Hector's mouth curled up into a grin. "They said a handful of words in bastardized Imperial, and let me go. To be perfectly honest, I don't know what they found, if anything, just that it wasn't interesting enough for them keep me around."

"Are you going to die?"

"Of course not," he folded his arms. "I survived a Godwrecker and a wrecking by the Gods. It's going to take something vastly more powerful to take me down."

Ellie searched his warped face, looking for some indicator of a lie, but couldn't find it. Maybe he was hiding it well, or maybe it was part of his regular stubbornness. Either way, she wouldn't gain anything from pressing him further. She was on a schedule and he knew it, so she sighed and stepped out of his path.

The pair continued on in silence for a while before Hector said, "This job offer… it's not from their government, is it?"

"No. I don't think I'd accept an offer from their government. I wouldn't accept an offer from _any_ government. But if this helps get demihumans through the Gate, then it's worth it."

They arrived in front of a park. It was a relatively new addition, and Ellie thought that it was a nice touch and a needed escape from all the rising brick and concrete. "This will take half an hour, maybe less," she said. "Hector, I…"

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're tougher than her. You wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't."

"This is the part where you say something sarcastic and call me 'girl,' right?"

But Hector shook his head. "I'm not the one that needs to be convinced. You show her that you're more than that. Do you understand? For the next half hour, you're not a girl," he shifted his hand to her back and gave her a slight push towards the park. "You're Ellie."

Ellie glanced once more back at the older mage. The grin was still there, and he raised an eyebrow as if to say, " _Go on._ "

The park was empty, which made sense as it was mid afternoon. Everyone was at work or school or elsewhere, which meant that there was no one wondering the trees or paths. At the center of the park stood a bright red Japanese Torii gate, both of its main pillars inscribed with a list of seventy-nine names. Directly beneath it, a bronze statue of a JSDF soldier stood perpetual guard.

Staring down the guard from several feet away stood Amita Ze Andromache.

Ellie hadn't talked with her old teacher since the air battle over Italica, and hadn't really planned on doing so ever again. The only reason she had come today was because Andromache had finally been granted leave by the fledgling parliament of the Falmart Republic, and was about to return to the Seiraf Kingdom and the Avion Sea. She had asked to see Ellie once more before she left, and Ellie, knowing it was the last time they would likely ever meet, accepted the offer.

The older Monarch was reasonably quick to notice her and her mouth pressed into a firm line. "Here I am," Ellie said, "What did you want to discuss?"

Andromache's eyes narrowed as they took in Ellie. "Those are Earth clothes," she said.

Indeed, Ellie was wearing pants and a modified blouse from a Tokyo boutique she had visited with Greta. The staff had been very nice, and very eager to find a way to make everything work with the particulars of a Monarch's figure. "What about them?" she asked.

"They're a poor choice for scouting and would get easily soaked."

"Then it's a good thing that I wasn't planning on flying today."

Andromache ignored Ellie's argument and said, "I have gone and set up the option of a lucrative position with the Imperial Aviation Group. With my departure and Greta's dereliction of her duty, you're the next best option to train their pilots. You should be thankful that I asked on your behalf."

Dereliction of duty was an odd way to phrase what had gone on with Greta. After Ellie and Hector had left her with Dr. Carol Dawson, the demihuman aerospace engineer had magically found herself in the possession of an expedited work visa, and had promptly cut all contact with the Special Region. When Hector and Ellie had visited the two a few months later, Greta had aggressively avoided the topic of ever returning.

Ellie suspected the reason why, and she generally felt the same way. "I will not be joining the Imperial Aviation Group," she said.

"You're a failure of a navigator, and you abandoned your village. You should be lucky that _anyone_ is willing to offer you a job," Andromache spat. "Never in all my years-"

"I have been given a better offer, and I plan to take it," Ellie declared. "An Earth company wishes me to help crew one of their vessels, and determine the rate at which Monarchs… demihumans as a whole can learn specific fields, and how we respond to unusual environments."

"And how do you plan to navigate such a vessel without passing my examination?"

"Earth vessels self-navigate. Especially this one."

"Ridiculous."

"It's true."

"I think you're making a big mistake. As your mentor-"

"Oh _shut up_ ," Ellie said. Unconsciously, her wings sprang partway open. It was an automatic defensive gesture, but she didn't care. It was appropriate. 'I get it. I'm not you, and I'm not any of your former students, but guess what? _I don't_ _need to be._ I've found my own way, and I don't need you dragging me down any more."

Andromache held firm, but it didn't matter. Ellie had said everything she needed to say. She turned around and started for the park exit.

"And what company of fools would hire an untrained Monarch!?" Andromache shouted after her.

Ellie knew the answer would be meaningless to her former teacher, but a grin crept onto her face and she looked back over her shoulder.

"SpaceX!" she shouted back.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

I realized shortly after completing A Sky Full of Thunder that I had not properly included a scene wrapping up the animosity between Ellie and Andromache, as it seemed to disrupt the flow of the original story. I have included it here as a separate item which, while not where I would place the formal ending, should help serve to tie the events of Thunder to the next project.

Yes, you read that correctly. There is another project.

I am pleased to announce that the Skies trilogy will conclude with _A Sky Full of Starlight,_ to be released starting in January of 2019. This will seal up all the remaining plot threads from _A Sky Full of Thunder_ , and will get a bit deeper into the mixing of two world cultures as Earth and the Special Region become more deeply integrated with each other. It will also showcase technology and magic working in concert to push their respective limits, and include one hell of a conflict.

Thanks again for your continued readership, and I look forward to sharing _Starlight_ with all of you in the coming year.

-8andahalfby11, October 31, 2018


	21. A Word on Tactics: Prelude to Starlight

Hi everyone!

Just wanted to let you know that _A Sky Full of Starlight_ is currently out, and is being released at a rate of one chapter per week. I intend on increasing the rate once the draft of the last chapter is done (it almost is) so that we can get to the exciting stuff faster.

Since FanFiction has a policy about not adding new chapters just for announcements, here's a meeting with an old acquaintance…

 **ONE YEAR AFTER A SKY FULL OF THUNDER**

 **Air Force Academy, Colorado, United States**

General Kengun had been hoping to spend more of his time relaxing on his week away from the Special Region, but no matter how he tried, he could not get away from people hounding him for details about the latest big discussion in military circles; the aerial engagement vs. Rondel during the latest civil war. At first he had hoped that it would stay limited to just reporters, but when the Americans offered him four million dollars to give a lecture tour at their military academies, it would have been silly to say no. With some broken English and the help of a few translators, he had already discussed the war against Zorzal at West Point, the engagements against Tinae on the Avion Sea at Annapolis, and finally the aerial battles near Italica at Colorado Springs.

The novelty of these discussions wasn't always about strategy. If anything the modern might of the JSDF negated about half of the planning that went into these battles. Rather, they were usually about how magic factored into the tactics of the enemy, and how his subordinates had responded to the tactics. The students at the Air Force academy had been particularly interested in Magical ECM, and he wished that he had brought Kamikoda with him to give the lecture instead.

After half an hour of pleasantries and small talk with the head officers, Kengun was in the process of packing up his lecture notes, when he was surprised to hear a voice in Japanese say, "Kengun Shunya, it has been so long!"

Kengun looked up from his documents to identify the USAF officer. His hair was thinner since they'd last talked, and his rank was different, but he did remember the face. "Ah, Richard Mullan!" Kengun said. "I'm sorry, the rank confused me. You were a Colonel when we last met."

"So were you!"

Mullan _had_ been a Colonel back then… in the American strategic missile forces. He had been the one managing the mobile rocket launchers that had caused so much trouble nearly a decade ago.

"Very true. I heard that they moved you to Korea for a while, but nothing after that. What are you up to these days?"

Mullan offered a thin smile and said, "Research and Development. I wish I could tell you more, but you know how these things work… do you have time to get coffee?"

Kengun was somewhat tired and had hoped to go straight back to his apartment for an hour or two-he found talking with Americans to be mentally taxing-but Mullan was a special case. After all, they shared a history, including a major battle against Hardy and Giselle. There was also the bomb, but he suspected that Mullan wouldn't want to talk about that. He certainly didn't. "Of course," Kengun said. "Please, lead the way."

Several minutes later, drinks in hand, Mullan opened up with, "How have things changed over there, now that the travel treaty is in place?"

"You were over there… nine years ago? You would hardly recognize the place," Kengun said. "So much development, so many new buildings...it reminds me of some of the bigger towns in Hokkaido, but with less snow. I used to be able to travel much of the settlement by memory, but now sometimes even I get lost. Due to the time difference there is also always noise coming from the Gate. My biggest regret, I think, is that if you look up at night you can no longer see the stars due to the light pollution."

"And the foreign investment hasn't given you any trouble?"

"None yet, though we are keeping a close eye on certain Chinese projects… but they have come to understand that Alnus is still Japan, and they must follow our rules in public. I have heard that they are trying to buy land from Elbe and Alguna, but we shall see how that goes. The Falmart Republic already turned down offers at Sherry's claim that she does not want to compete with East Asian labor markets if she can help it."

Mullan nodded. "I've never met her myself, but the girl earned quite a reputation. Speaking of leadership, I hear that you're also under new management?"

Kengun looked like Mullan had just offered him something foul. "Just because Kouhara is now Prime Minister does not mean she has earned the respect of the armed forces. You will never hear Minister Nomura say it publicly, but all the officers know of her role in ruining Hazama's career."

"Are you worried that she's after your head too?"

The Japanese General shrugged. "All I know is that she sees us as a tool for her own power. It makes me uncomfortable."

"I understand how you feel. We've had an administration or two like that in recent memory. Hopefully the Diet understands too."

Kengun nodded thoughtfully, paused to take a sip of his drink and said, "May I ask you about something sensitive? If it bothers you, we can change the topic at any time."

"If you want."

"Did you hear about the Gate-fire over Ichijima?"

Mullan took perhaps a beat longer to respond than Kengun was hoping for. "I've heard rumors," he said.

"Do you know anything about it?"

"Nope."

"I see…" Kengun knew that Mullan was trained to lie; he had done so for weeks with the Midgetman rockets at Alnus.

 _So why did he approach me?_ The conversation so far had been steered in this direction. Kengun could feel that much. The Gate treaty should have signaled to the US military that the JSDF knew about the new American weapon, and as Mullan had a background in the Special Region, Gates, strategic weapons, _and_ was apparently now working in R&D, he was the most likely person to have known if such a weapon existed.

There could only be one reason. His signal had gotten through, and this American, or perhaps America as a whole, wanted to talk.

 _A strange talk_ , he decided. _Neither of us can say what we know to be true._ "Supposing such a device existed, it would be quite groundbreaking."

"I agree."

"It would also be extraordinarily dangerous."

"I guess, depending on how you used it."

"Would you, if you had a device like that?"

Mullan sat back and appeared to think about it. "Once upon a time, I told an engineer from NASA that Magic was the new nuke. There's truth to that, I think, not just in how devastating it could be if used, but in how I imagine superpowers would treat it if they got their hands on it. I would like to believe that if the United States ever decided to use magic in weapons, it would do so responsibly and without intent to regularly use. I would hope Japan would say the same."

"And you, personally?"

Mullan grinned. "I never thought I'd fire a nuclear-tipped rocket before, but here we are. You know how things went at Alnus with Bellnahgo. I do what I'm told… if you take my meaning."

It wasn't what we was hoping for, but under the circumstances, Kengun supposed that it was the best he could ask for. "That's how the job works, after all," Kengun said with a smile and curt nod, and mockingly held up his coffee cup like a beer glass. "To deeper meanings."

The chuckle he got in reply from Mullan was the most calming thing he'd heard on the whole lecture tour. "To deeper meanings!"


End file.
